Some Kind of Wonderful
by kaycarolina
Summary: Fairytale AU. To fortify a treaty between their kingdoms, Princess Michonne and Prince Richard are arranged to be married. Neither is agreeable to the contract and try to find their own way around it. When the dust settles, will the love that follows be strong enough to unite them against outside forces that seek to destroy their kingdoms and their happily ever after? Richonne.
1. For Crown and Kingdom

A/N: This was inspired by the lovely and amazing picture on Tumblr of Rick and Michonne as a prince and princess. This is a fairy tale AU and primarily takes place in a medieval-type setting, however, I have borrowed from other eras/time periods for vocabulary, occupations, royal titles, land ownership, inheritance, more. Richonne and many others, including original characters. Please enjoy.

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Chapter 1 – For Crown and Kingdom

 _Castle_ _Hearts Aflame – Kingdom of Atlantica_

 _Private Chambers of Princess Michonne_

Her Majesty, Queen Amara, reigned over all she could see, which in the broadest sense included the entirety of Atlantica, but at the moment meant Hearts Aflame Castle and all those within it, and specifically her daughter, The Princess Michonne, as Amara stood in the latter's dressing room, locked in a battle of wills and working hard not to lose her patience. It wouldn't do to yell at a princess, even if she was your very own child. The unexpected arrival of the queen had brought the pre-dinner tea amusements of conversation, music and singing to an abrupt and awkward standstill. Her maids waited off to the side, huddled together with their heads bowed, desperate for invisibility amid the tension. Michonne's ladies in waiting, Lady Margaret, Lady Andrea and Lady Rosita all stared down at their laps, focused on needlepoint which had been practically discarded just moments before. The young Lady Elizabeth, finally of age to garner her first invitation to one of the tea parties, sat on the edge of her chair, watching with wide eyes as she clutched her lute. She'd stopped playing immediately and now was unsure if she should stay or go. In the queen's presence, she couldn't leave without explicit permission or until she was dismissed and neither had been granted. She glanced over at her sister and took comfort when Maggie, without looking up, shook her head slightly, telling her to stay put.

The princess herself stood on a raised platform in front of a semi-circle of full length mirrors, unprepared for guests. She was waiting to be dressed, clad only in an ivory linen chemise and her locs loose about her shoulders, the rich brown of her skin glowing in the light from the oil lamps. By contrast, Amara was perfectly put together, having come from taking afternoon tea with her husband, King Andreas. She'd left their daily assignation unsettled, and the concern had propelled her straight to Michonne's rooms. Amara's off-shoulder burgundy gown was accented with lace trim and a double-wrap gold medallion belt that matched her jewelry and highlighted the deep russet of her skin. Her locs, thinner and longer than Michonne's, were dyed at the ends with madder root to match the dark red of her dress and plaited into four-strand twists and swept up into a large petal bun. Approaching middle age, her beauty was still vibrant and stunning. She had been born late in life to her parents after many years where everyone feared there would be no heir. Amara Hope was beloved by the kingdom, first as their darling princess and now as their shrewd and compassionate queen. That love and adoration had expanded to include Michonne, who favored her mother in looks, temperament and intellect. Amara saw much of herself in Michonne but that empathy did not relieve any of them of responsibilities and expectations. In a self-indulgent attempt of defiance, Michonne kept her back to her mother, but maintained eye contact in one of the mirrors. The silence grew heavier and more strained as Queen and Princess, mother and daughter, stared at each other.

"This is your duty," Amara relented, speaking first. Her calm expression and level tone did not betray her worry.

"To marry this outsider? Some man I know nothing of? That I don't love? What does he like for breakfast? What activities does he enjoy in his idle time? How does he treat his mother? I have questions."

Amara suppressed a smile. "These are things you will get to know. The alliance with Alexandria is more crucial than ever. With their kingdom on the other side of The Sanctuary, this union will allow us to stand strong against any threat from The Sanctuary. You are key to that. To ensure strength and protection for generations to come."

"Generations that may never exist because I do not want to marry some desperate second-son prince willing to bargain his heart and soul for a kingdom of his own."

Amara kissed her teeth at her daughter's words. "Your father was a second son. He had no lands of his own when he was affianced to me. And he was no less a prince, no less a man, no less worthy to be crowned king at our coronation. Look how well we have ruled this kingdom together, how prosperous we have been, the love we share."

Michonne's shoulders slumped and she hung her head in shame. "I beg your pardon," she apologized.

"It is your duty," Amara repeated. "As it was mine. To marry the man your parents have chosen for you."

Michonne turned to face her mother, her eyes bright and hands out, pleading. She stepped off the dais and in front of her mother. "But you had a chance to get to know Papa before you exchanged vows, a year of courtship and the time to fall in love. He has told me stories of the long walks in the gardens, riding horses along the lowlands, the picnics on the white sands of the eastern isles. The ballads his bard wrote for you and the love letters you penned for him."

Amara gritted her teeth against the pang in her heart at the memories of her and Andreas' engagement. The fanciful stories were true, but not helpful in their expectations for Michonne.

"I was supposed to have more time," Michonne stated. "I still don't understand why the date was moved up. The agreement was for the wedding to take place four years from now."

Amara dropped her eyes for a moment before looking back at her daughter. "Michonne, you are one and twenty, how much longer should we wait? Things have changed and your father and I won't be here forevermore. As it is, the prince will be here on the morrow and we still have a fortnight before the ceremony. That is plenty of time to get to know him. More time than most have."

Lady Carol, the royal governess, although all but one of her charges was now of marriageable age, decided to intervene. After being released from service from her prior township years ago, she'd traveled to Atlantica in possession of a high recommendation and advanced healing skills. Skills that were initially self-taught and then refined and expanded under the tutelage of Lord Hershel, the royal physician. She'd been welcomed and valued at Hearts Aflame, so much so that the monarchs had kept her on after Hershel's untimely death. They established her as the governess after they installed a new physician in the castle. Carol adored Michonne and her ladies. And the youngest, Beth, who had reached the age to begin her training. They all filled her heart and days with love and exasperation, much as she would have expected her own Sophia would have done had she survived the fever.

"Your Royal Majesty," Lady Carol addressed the queen, curtsying deeply. She turned to Michonne and bowed her head. "Your Highness. Perchance if we just take the time to see the other's point of view. Princess, you are precious to your parents and most loved yet there are expectations. You are the only child and heir. You will meet the prince. If he is an abuser,"—Carol swallowed hard on this word and unwittingly thought of Sir Edward, even long dead the man still haunted her— "if he is an abuser or a trickster, the negotiations will be void.

"Madam, you have raised our princess to speak her mind and know her worth, so it is not surprising that she would not be content with the changes to the arrangement. However, the princess understands her duty. But mayhap, we can find common ground in this matter. She needs the latitude to get know the young prince before the wedding, away from the prying eyes of parents, and on her behalf, I beg that such time and space be granted."

Amara watched her daughter as she reflected on Carol's words. She nodded once to the governess, granting her request. Michonne released a deep breath, but it did little to ease the tightness in her chest. She appreciated the concession but it wasn't enough. She had hoped in the remaining years before the wedding date, a worthwhile suitor would come forth, someone from Atlantica that she loved and that loved her back, would be enough to have her parents void the contract. She'd thought she'd found that.

"On the morrow, Michonne. At the end of the luncheon hour. Your presence is expected in the throne room to greet our guests from Alexandria."

"Yes Momma," she complied. "But perchance, I could meet the prince privately, and have some time to get to know him. To be at ease and comfortable, like Lady Carol suggested."

Amara narrowed her eyes at her daughter as she considered. She felt there was something beneath Michonne's request, but nothing she could put her finger on. "You will receive our guests in the solarium. Lady Carol will chaperone," she decided.

Michonne nodded.

"Your father and I look forward to your presence at dinner this eve. As you know, we still have other visitors in attendance."

Michonne smiled. "Of course."

Amara returned her smile and glanced around the room. No one was looking at them; their eyes cast downward or off to the side. She turned back at Michonne, her proud and magnificent daughter. Amara recalled a similar conversation with her own mother more than a score of years earlier. Her own young heart had been devastated at an arranged marriage, but it had turned out to be the love of a lifetime. She'd hoped the same for her daughter, a passionate love that knew no boundaries. That Michonne and her prince would get to know one another, become smitten and be madly in love on their wedding day. But circumstances had changed, and to protect the welfare of their kingdom, modifications were necessary. Either way, there was nothing to be done for it. Their loyalty was first to the crown and kingdom.

Amara reached out and touched two fingers to Michonne's cheek and her bangles clinked with the movement. "You are my labor of love," she whispered before taking her leave, her attendants following closely. Lady Carol curtsied again and also left.

There was a short pause in the wake of Amara's departure before everyone continued their prior activity with a start, as if they been caged and then set free. The maids scampered about, readying the items needed to dress the princess for dinner. Maggie and Andrea set down their stitching and returned to where they had been before. Rosita pulled out the vellum she'd stashed under her chair to finish Michonne's letter to Sir Michael. Beth started playing her lute again, plucking the strings in a lively tune and singing about a stubborn maiden in love with a brave knight. Michonne sat down at her dressing table, her head in her hands.

"The coral or the lilac?" Andrea called out, as two maids held up the dresses, both front lacing with empire waists and decorated with pearls and crystals. Glancing over at the dresses, Michonne remembered the kiss from Sir Michael on the last night of the Midsummer Festival. She had worn the coral gown and during a visit to the magician's tent, he'd snuck her out through the back. In the ninety seconds it took for her guard to find her, he had pressed his warm lips to hers and professed his love. It had been the most singular moment of her life, her very first kiss. She touched her bottom lip in memory.

"The lilac," Maggie responded, without looking up from perusing hair accessories. She selected a matching head wrap and several multi-colored beads that would be put on before Michonne's hair was pinned up.

Michonne silently agreed. The memories invoked by the coral were bittersweet. She sat patiently as two maids used oil pressed from coconuts to moisturize and retighten her locs before styling her hair. The music stopped. She drummed her fingers on the mahogany top as she listened with half an ear to the gossip and chatter. She'd exhausted all reasons, excuses and justifications to her parents for why the marriage should not take place. The realization that there would be no way out settled deep within her, heavy and troublesome. As soon as her hair was finished, she rose to her feet.

"Everyone leave us," she directed. The maids were swift to obey and hurried out after quick curtsies. Michonne looked over at Maggie's little sister, who had stopped playing to listen to all the gossip. "You too Beth," she prompted gently.

Beth blushed and nodded, gathering her items and giving a dip as she left the room.

Michonne faced her closest friends and confidants. Maggie, Andrea and Rosita had been her companions for most of their lives and now served as her ladies in waiting. Maggie had been with her the longest, from young childhood when she and her father, Hershel, had come to Hearts Aflame years ago. Andrea's father served as the king's top advisor on the great council and Andrea's mother assisted the queen in a similar manner. Rosita's father was the top general of the Castle Guard and oversaw all the details for protection and safety of the royal family. Rosita's mother was disappeared. Two years ago, she'd left to visit her hometown and had never arrived or returned. There'd been no trace of her since. Her mother's disappearance had left Rosita different than before, bitter and sullen. This was expected and Michonne gave Rosita grace while she grieved, but knew her patience was coming to an end with some of Rosita's antics.

"This won't do," Michonne stated.

Maggie looked confused. "The lilac? You haven't worn it in ages and we all know what happened the last time you wore the other."

"No, no, the dress is fine. What won't do is this marriage. Specifically me, marrying without knowing my intended. And more than just his hair color and how he takes his tea. Does he truly believe in love? Does he believe we can rule side by side or will he expect me to waste my days up in one of the towers while he gets fat on power and control?"

"You can just ask him," Andrea suggested.

"So he can wax eloquent to ensure he secures himself a kingdom? No, I need a way to really know him, see into the heart of him, determine if he is worthy. Of me. Of Atlantica. I just don't know how." Michonne stopped pacing.

"I need fresh air," she announced, stepping out of her chemise and into one of her exercise gowns. They had been custom made for her after Lady Carol discovered her with her guard, practicing hand to hand combat and learning how to use a sword. The thin frock fitted close to Michonne's upper body and flared out slightly at the waist. It ended mid-calf with sturdy stockings of the same color sewn in, guaranteeing the princess was the essence of propriety and modesty even sweating and wielding a sword. Similar ones had been made for her ladies.

"We've an hour until we're expected for dinner," Maggie warned, knowing how Michonne lost track of time during her exercise routines.

Michonne nodded and finished lacing her ankle boots. She walked over to the tapestry of Hearts Aflame at sunset and reached behind it to open the panel that led to her private gardens. There was a main entrance to the gardens on the other side of her chambers, but Michonne preferred the convenience and secrecy of the tunnel. She also enjoyed trying to catch her guard, off-guard. The passageway was tight, enough room for them to walk single-file, and dark, but the lack of light presented no hindrance due to their frequent use. After pulling open the stone colored pocket door, they emerged from the tunnel, squeezing past a large statue and blinking as their eyes adjusted to the sunlight. Lord Abraham and two others from Michonne's guard were waiting for them when they exited. Michonne grinned when she met Abe's eyes. The brawny redheaded man chuckled and winked at her. She had ceased years ago trying to figure out how he always managed to know where she was headed and to be there before her. That had made the moment between her and Mike so exceptional; that he'd been able to steal her away from under the alert eye of her guard. Long enough for a tender kiss and a declaration of love.

Lord Abraham, Baron of Ford, served as the head of the Princess Guard. After years of faithful service, leadership and bravery in battle and while protecting Michonne, King Andreas had granted him land less than a half-day's ride to the southwest. Once the princess was married and his successor in place, Abe would take up residence at the large manor that served as the seat of his township. He had been looking forward to this for the past four years, but as the time loomed closer, he was realizing how difficult it would be to leave the princess and to entrust her safety to another. He walked over to the princess and bowed. He greeted her ladies.

Outside, Michonne relaxed. The late afternoon sun warmed away the chill from the tunnel and the light breeze warned that autumn wasn't far off. This place was precious to her. The landscaping had been designed by Amara while she was pregnant with Michonne and during the years until Michonne was of age to move to her own chambers, the gardeners kept it up, planting, pruning and cultivating, making sure it would be perfect for her. She loved it all, the peach trees, the flowering shrubs and blossoms, the reading bench under the weeping willow, the topiaries of wild cats, but most especially, the large fountain where ceramic kittens frolicked around and in the cool water.

"Up for sparring, Princess?" Abe asked.

"I thought so, but not today," she replied. "I'm going to sit and enjoy the quiet."

Abe nodded and continued his patrol. There was no access to the garden from the outside, the stone walls over twelve feet high and with spires along the top. Still, her guard walked the perimeter to ensure it remained secure.

Michonne and her ladies sat at the fountain.

"I need more time," Michonne stated.

"There is none," Rosita said, trailing her fingers in the water.

"Yes, I know."

"What if you fell in love with Lord Philip?" Andrea proposed, referring to the newcomer from a nation far to the west. Michonne repressed a shudder at the thought of the man. There was something off about him, something wrong in such an unusual way; she avoided him as often as possible. He had arrived at their kingdom four months ago and seemed content to stay. She wished her parents would send him on his way, but he'd done nothing untoward and was becoming a close comrade of her father's.

"That will never happen."

"Well, if you're not interested, I think he'd make a wonderful match. My mother has said the same many times."

"No, not at all. You should want to know more about him. No one has even heard of Woodbury, the township he's from. Every time someone asks him about his home kingdom, he evades the question; he never gives a straightforward answer."

Andrea shrugged. "Does it even matter?"

"Maybe you could get King Ezekiel to fall in love with you," Rosita suggested.

"The mad king?" Michonne smiled. She was fond of Ezekiel but not in that way. He'd earned the nickname for his old-fashioned speech and eccentric ways he ruled his kingdom. It didn't have a name, he simply called it The Kingdom but he had renamed his castle to honor the tiger who was his constant companion. He and Shiva had arrived yesterday. Ezekiel's kingdom bordered theirs to the west and both kingdoms benefitted from a long-standing relationship including the exchange of trade and commerce. "Lady Carol holds in him high regard, I do believe she fancies him."

"Could you imagine?" Andrea asked. "That is the most romantic of love stories. To be plucked from working class and elevated up to a queen. She'd have her very own kingdom. They could regale their grandchildren with the tale."

"I'm certain they're too old for children of their own," Rosita said.

"You think so?" Maggie asked. "Well, he does care for all those orphans. Keeps them right there in his castle. They could parent them together and live happily ever after."

"That's what I want," Michonne said. "A love for the ages. I want to be someone's everything, their whole heart, what they always wanted and hoped for. Who they dream of at night and during waking hours." She picked up a flower head floating off the water's surface. "I thought I had that."

Maggie studied Michonne. "You know your parents would never agree to a marriage between you and Sir Michael. He is a knight but has yet to garner any lands or earn any titles. A knight of his age should have one or the other by now. He's foolhardy and too content to let others take care of him."

Michonne bit the inside of her cheek and looked away. Maggie's words were true but she was still heart sore. Not so much at her parents' rejection of his petition to court her, but that he'd drank himself into a stupor and then left the very next morning, without a word. She'd thought they were in love, that they meant the world to one another. She thought she would have run away with him. But he had been unwilling to fight for her, for the love he swore to possess for her. Maybe she was the foolish one. She blinked away tears when Maggie grabbed her hand.

Abe walked back by while Maggie was speaking. He agreed with her assessment of the fellow. Mike had caused him naught but trouble and worry, from his lack of focus during training to his lack of courage during a skirmish against invaders along the southern beaches. Abe wondered how long Mike would stay away. First things first, the wayward knight would lose his title and be relegated back down to squire when he returned.

"All that man wanted was hanky-panky. Not on my watch," Abe said. He looked at Michonne. "Your father would have me by my red curlies if I'd let that fox feast in the henhouse. The core of man can't change any more than Shiva can change her stripes. I've got my eyes wide open in case he tries to sneak back here in disguise."

They all giggled at his words, but his comment sparked an idea in Michonne. "I think I have a way," she said to Maggie.

Maggie recognized the mischievous gleam in Michonne's eyes. She hesitated to ask, but couldn't resist. "A way for what?"

"A way for you to help me get to know the real prince; expose who he is behind the royal façade."

"Do tell," Maggie said.

"I need you to be me. Just for a day or two."

* * *

 _Above the Violet Valley, within the Lands of Atlantica_

 _Temporary Camp of His Royal Highness, Prince Richard, Duke of Grimes_

For the past three weeks, the prince's royal entourage had traveled south from Rising Moon Castle in the Kingdom of Alexandria to Hearts Aflame, an excursion that had taken a sennight longer than usual due to a detour around The Sanctuary Kingdom lands. Prior to the crowning of the current king, generations of Alexandrians had been permitted access through The Sanctuary when journeying to the south. With King Negan now seated on the throne, the relations between The Sanctuary and its bordering nations were on the verge of collapse. No one had yet to meet the new king but word spread that he was aggressive and antagonistic. The dissolution and repeal of all treaties supported that theory and the last thing Alexandria wanted was to start an all-out war over trespassing.

The group had crossed into Atlantica lands two days prior and set up camp early on the rise before the valley that lead up to Hearts Aflame. This current assembly was without their own king and queen, who had been unable to leave with the prince as planned on account of Queen Eloise suffering from an unexpected malady. As relayed by the royal messengers moving swiftly between the two traveling parties, His and Her Majesty had followed as soon as her health improved and were less than a fortnight behind. They assured the prince on the delivery of each new missive that they would arrive in time for his nuptials. Rick had ignored these post scripts from his mother as thoughts of the imminent wedding conflicted with his fantasy that he was just on holiday. After fishing, marksmanship, hunting and a days-on end competition of backgammon with his cousin, the future was inevitable. From his perch on a large, flat boulder, it loomed at him from across the valley. He counted the turrets and towers and even from his location, Hearts Aflame was an impressive structure of pale granite and white speckled stone. Aside from the colors, it reminded him of Rising Moon.

He tilted his head at the sound of his cousin stomping through the woods toward him. One of their castle's best hunters, she could be fleet-footed when she desired, but she wanted to let his guard know she was approaching. And with that, Lady Sasha burst into the clearing, holding up three fat and, what were likely once, happy hares. She tossed them off to the side for the cook before approaching Rick.

"You wouldn't be so brave to wear that were my mother here," he greeted her.

"Your Royal Highness," she said, curtsying low.

Rick grinned and considered telling her yet again how ridiculous she looked doing that while wearing trousers and a long woolen shirt. She'd raided the garment chests soon after their departure and he'd wondered which poor squire was without his leisure wear. None would speak up, not wanting to engage her in a quarrel they would surely lose. Not even her lady's maid, although the woman was near apoplectic at Sasha's choice of attire but Sasha refused to be convinced to change her clothing. It'd only taken a few days for his men to get used to her wearing such, although Sir Robert often stared too long. Rick surmised he would have to have a word with him.

"Well, it's a good thing she's not with us because I've decided traveling in dresses is cumbersome and unnecessary. It's less cleaning for Lettie and all my gowns will be in perfect condition for when we arrive. Besides, it's easier to hunt. We're fortunate Atlantica has given us permission to hunt on their lands."

"Why would they not? I've come to marry their princess."

Sasha sat down next to him, bumping into him and forcing him to move over to make room for her.

He grunted and shifted to the side. "I'm not sure why you even bother," he referred to her teasing behavior of touching his person greeting him so formally.

"Perchance I'm practicing. It's been a long time since I've been presented at another court. Or I'm keeping you humble and ensuring your head doesn't grow any bigger."

"What's to make this head grow? Here I am on my way to marry a princess I know nothing about. She could be a shrew or cruel in spirit. What if she doesn't enjoy nature or horses? What if she is full of spite and seeks to make all those around her miserable? There are none that would trade places with me for this fate."

"Mayhap not. I've heard she's beautiful."

"Plenty have beauty that goes no deeper than the skin."

Sasha remained silent, having no words of wisdom for Rick. She sympathized with him as her own heart chafed. She peeked over at Sir Robert, talking with Lord Glenn about guard schedules. He met her eyes and gave her a broad smile before continuing his conversation. She fancied him but her aunt, Queen Eloise, had assured her that in no uncertain terms would such a match be entertained. Like so many other royals, Sasha's husband would be selected by the king and queen. With her connection to the royal family, Sasha's marriage would serve to benefit their sovereign nation. Her arguments and angry tears had been ignored; Eloise hadn't budged.

"Sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants but duty dictates otherwise. And we are nothing if not captives to duty," Sasha said.

Rick noticed her covert glances to the other side.

"He's not for you," Rick said softly. "It would never do. Besides, he's too fond of his drink."

"Everyone keeps telling me it won't do. But I keep thinking of my heart. He could be what my heart needs."

"Our hearts do not belong to us. I, for one, have promised mine to another. And look at me here. Even now, Lady Jessica awaits my return."

Sasha made an unladylike sound. Rick ignored her. He already knew how she felt about the widow.

"Lady Jessica," she scoffed. "That woman couldn't find her way out a burlap sack open at one end."

"You should be kind. Her temperament is that of a flower, fragile and beautiful. She was devastated by the loss of her husband and is coming out on the other side of that."

"You should be wise. She is weak and manipulative, a dangerous combination. You have a head full of big rocks if you think she would be fit to be the wife of a king."

"I am only a prince; I have no kingdom."

"One day you will."

"But as second son, only when I marry this princess who is the heir to her father's throne." He gestured toward Hearts Aflame. "If I could just make you all see Jessie as I do."

"What's to see? You're too close and you've let your heart become entangled. You knew it wasn't available to give. You are here to marry this princess. This is not going to end well." Sasha brushed a ladybug off her leg. She sat as if she were wearing a dress, legs together and crossed at the ankles. "You always seek out and pine for the damsels in distress, the ones that need saving. You need someone that could save you too."

"That's what I have you for," Rick chuckled. The thought of a woman that would match him in personality, skills and wit was intimidating. All his life he'd worked hard to be just as good as his older brother, Jeffrey. He'd grown up having to accept the fact that he had missed inheriting Alexandria by eight minutes. He didn't want to have to compete with a wife as well.

"No Richard, I will not marry you," Sasha teased. "You are already spoken for."

"I don't want to marry you either. I made Jessie a promise. I cannot break it."

"Your loyalties lie first to Alexandria; with your mother and father and what they promised on your behalf. Alexandria needs a solid alliance to stand strong against The Sanctuary. The Saviors are getting more and more bold with each passing year. I've heard troublesome rumors about their new king. That he has peculiar tastes and enjoys others' pain."

Rick shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't worried about The Sanctuary's king. No one had ever even seen him. King Negan would keep to his lands and they would keep to theirs. And if he didn't, the knights at Alexandria would dispatch of him easily.

"Jessie doesn't care to be queen."

"Because she can't be a queen if you aren't a king. And you can't be king unless you marry this princess which then would make it impossible for you to marry anyone else. Jessie would content being a princess. It would be so much more than the life she had with the physician, Sir Peter. His death left her near destitute with two babes to feed. Being a princess would guarantee fancy dresses, tables overflowing with food and nannies to care for her children. And none of the responsibilities of governing a kingdom."

Rick didn't reply. He'd worried about this, wondered at the true motivations of Jessie's love for him, particularly when she pressured him to elope with her and not wait for his parents' approval. Whenever he'd brought it up, she had assured him all she wanted was his heart. Rick sighed and scratched at his new beard. His manservant kept it closely trimmed and in good order on his cheeks and jaw. He'd started growing it out before they left, much to Jessie's displeasure. He had decided to keep it, somewhat hoping Princess Michonne would dislike it as well.

The sounds of birds calling to one another echoed throughout the valley and filled the quiet between Rick and Sasha. They remained still, sitting side by side and enjoying the approaching dusk. The valley was aptly named, with blossoms and flowers in varying shades of purple covering the basin and sides. They watched as the sun fell to the horizon, the angle of its rays illuminating the castle in a remarkable display of gold, auburn and fire. They sat in awed silence of the beauty before them, the name of the castle evident in how it glowed so brightly at the close of the day.

"I don't know if I can do it," Rick confessed. "Not even for this. For ten thousand sunsets like this."

As darkness stretched over the land, Rick and Sasha made their way back to the camp, followed closely by their guard. Lord Glenn, Earl of Rhee, and his young squire, Noah, met them outside of Rick's tent. Glenn was Rick's closest friend and a former knight in his father's guard. He was now lord of his township but at King Henry's request, had taken up his sword and armor to provide additional defense and companionship for the prince on this excursion.

"If we leave at first light," Glenn was saying, "we'll be there with plenty of time to rest and refresh before luncheon. The messenger has returned and His and Her Majesty eagerly await our arrival."

Rick nodded and they finalized the traveling plans for daybreak. Noah glared at Sasha. It was his garments that she wore. She gave him a knowing smile, daring him to speak. Sasha threw her head back and laughed, tickled at his predicament. She already planned to pay him handsomely for the use of this clothing once they arrived at the castle, but wanted to see if he would speak up. Noah's scowl deepened and he stalked off to the tent he shared with Glenn's other squires.

There was backgammon and knucklebones by torchlight before a hearty dinner of roasted hare stew, cabbage and apples. Rick returned to his tent and settled on the over-sized pillows on his sleeping pallet. He drifted to sleep quickly and dreamed of dancing with Jessie at a ball to celebrate their wedding. The longer they danced, the blurrier and dimmer she became until she was someone else entirely. Someone different, new. Someone that made his heart quicken and his mouth dry. This new woman brought a wide smile to his face and joy to the very center of his being. He loved her; fully, unequivocally, relentlessly. He needed to know everything about her. His heart expanded with delight but he was frustrated that he couldn't see her face. It was completely covered by a full-face veil. The music stopped and he attempted to lift the veil to kiss her, his lady love, but she stepped out of his embrace and ran from him. He chased after her but she was too fast, slipping around endless corners and turns and staying just beyond his reach. He followed her out of the castle and into the cold evening air. He couldn't find her, she was gone. He stopped running and out of breath, fell to his knees, devastated.

Rick woke with a start. His chest heaved as he struggled for air and he rubbed his chest, trying to ease the deep ache there. He felt morose and agitated. He remembered his tears in the dream when he'd lost her and blushed with embarrassment at the thought of acting such a way over a woman. The woman in his dreams made him vulnerable and weak. Not at all the like the strong king he always envisioned he would be. This was not a good sign of what was to come.

"Go bring Lord Glenn to me," he told his manservant, who had woken when Rick sat up.

Rick pulled on his dressing gown to wait for Glenn. When Glenn arrived, clothes haphazard and hair disheveled from his rush to obey the summons, Rick began speaking immediately. He shared his concerns and worries over his betrothal. When Rick stopped pacing, Glenn placed his hand on Rick's shoulder.

"What do you need?" Glenn asked.

"I need you to be me," Rick told him. "Get to know the princess and tell me of her personality and character."

Glenn frowned, uncomfortable with request. He was loyal and proud to serve his monarch and kingdom, but he worried of the repercussions from such trickery.

"Just for a day, maybe two," Rick rushed to say. "So I can make a wise decision and know if I need to get out of this. Marriage is a covenant; a binding contract for life. There should be mutual love and respect. What if I marry this princess without knowing her and I get neither. Surely that cannot be how I'm meant to spend the remainder of my days."

Glenn considered Rick's words. He cleared his throat. "Two days, my prince. I'll give you two days. For our crown and kingdom. And your heart."

Rick nodded as Glenn bowed and departed. He walked aimlessly around his tent, still feeling restless. He lay back down but was not able to fall asleep until the first rays of the sun breached the camp.


	2. Like For Like

_Castle Hearts Aflame_

It was nearing the midnight hour and most were preparing for rest save a handful of servants working late to complete remaining arrangements for their guests. On the main floor of the Great Hall, tucked away in the northeast corner was the princess' residence. Her ladies' rooms were clustered on either side of hers, not nearly as large or opulent, but each held a sleeping chamber, dressing room and bathing closet. Most evenings, they all gathered together in Michonne's chambers before bed. Currently, Michonne and Maggie sat among the pillows on Michonne's oversized bed, talking while they waited for the others.

"I made a slight change to the prince's accommodations and arranged for him to stay at Mystic Wonder," Michonne said, referring the larger of the two stone houses outside the hall used lodge guests not related or of close connection to the royal family.

Maggie frowned. "Surely your intended should have his rooms here."

"Yes, but I can't have him wandering around the passages with everyone addressing me as the princess when you're supposed to me."

"I had hoped you'd change your mind; realized your plan is flawed."

"I have not," Michonne told her. She glanced over at the candle clock on the fireplace mantel. They all usually gathered before now. "Where's Rosita?"

"She said she was going off to think," Maggie replied. "She's really missing her mom today. The two year mark just passed."

Michonne sighed. "I know. I feel awful but I don't know how to help her. If only we could get some word of her mother; some type of closure. It's just so odd, who vanishes neither hide nor hair left behind? My mother keeps sending out search parties but they all return empty-handed."

Maggie nodded her head in agreement. "Maybe some word will come soon."

"Is Andrea not coming either?"

As if summoned by her name, Andrea appeared at the foot of the bed, a wide grin on her face. "He is divine," she enthused. She walked over to the tea service and felt the pot. "It's still warm. Want a cup?" she asked Michonne and Maggie, preparing cups of tea for them all when they nodded.

Michonne accepted hers and held her tongue about why Andrea was late. She knew of whom Andrea spoke and refused to voice again her misgivings about Sir Philip. She'd already said everything she could for Andrea to take heed.

Andrea joined them on the bed, carefully holding her and Maggie's cups.

"Momma said Father Gabriel will be arriving in just over a sennight to perform your nuptials. I am hoping for a double wedding. I hold a true affection for Sir Philip and I am sure he returns my regard. We are kindred spirits."

"You've determined that in the three occasions you've engaged in conversations with him?"

"It doesn't take long, Michonne. True love is instantaneous and cannot be denied."

Michonne scoffed.

"You'll see," Andrea predicted. "I anticipate that the hearts of you and the prince will recognize the other immediately and began love's wondrous journey."

"Andrea, you speak like one of young Beth's songs with your head in the clouds."

Andrea tittered as she sipped her tea.

"Did Sir Michael really turn your heart away from love?" Maggie asked.

"No, no, he didn't. I held affection for him but it was nothing more than child's play. I was enamored of my first kiss and of him; perchance we're all that way. If he'd truly loved me he would have stayed and stood up for my hand. If he came back, I would have nothing to do with him. I do wonder where he went off too and I miss his friendship, but I'm grateful I didn't do anything irreversible." She gave a sidelong look to at Andrea who was still smiling into her cup. Michonne finished her own and set it on the bedtable. "I know I'm to be married. But something's not right."

"Seems like you're stalling to me," Andrea said.

"Does it really matter? I was to have months to get to know the prince and that's been taken from me. This is unusual of my mother, to be so rash, changing the date. It makes me wonder if there is something more going on. If my mother is hiding something, I need to know what that is." She looked at Maggie. "And I still need to know about the prince. We're keeping to my plan."

Maggie sighed and nodded. "Two days Michonne, and not a day more. I worry when we're found out, the fallout will be irreparable. How will the prince feel knowing you lied to him?"

"Where were you?" Michonne demanded. "Don't tell me I need to start sending my guard after you."

"Fret not, I was with the guard. I was taking a stroll around the bailey when Abe saw me and escorted me back here."

"Abe? My Sir Abraham?"

Rosita nodded, a shy smile on her face.

"He gave me leave to call him Abe when it's just the two of us."

Michonne studied her cousin. "Do you fancy him then?"

Rosita beamed. "He is. . ." She clasped her hands together and giggled. The others shared a look; it'd been so long since they'd seen Rosita happy.

"Is everybody falling in love but me?" Michonne asked with a smile.

"Not I," Maggie huffed. "Not with any of these cox-combs around here. I'm sure I will have to search far and wide for my fair handsome."

"Someone will catch your eye and your heart," Michonne said.

"Same to you," Maggie returned. "Like for like. Watch, you'll see."

They continued talking in hushed voices, laughter interspersed throughout their conversation until sleep beckoned and they retired to their respective rooms.

* * *

As typical most dawns, a heavy fog blanketed the Violet Valley, concealing the main path to Hearts Aflame and covering everything in wet dew. Michonne stopped along the rampart above the gatehouse, looking out over the valley. She searched pointlessly, imagining the prince and his group were preparing to begin their descent, possibly first waiting for the fog to lift. They were still miles off, so even if she could see amid the thick mist, they would only be points in the distance.

Keeping to her usual routine, she'd risen with the sun and completed stretching exercises before taking a brisk walk along the curtain wall. Every other morning, she sparred with Abe before her walk. This was her off day, although she wondered if the additional drills would help keep her troublesome thoughts away. Abe waited several feet away, leaning against the battlements.

"I'm going for a ride, before they arrive," she stated out loud. "I don't need a chaperone." It was her promise that she would stay in the riding field furthest from the gatehouse and his promise that her guard would stay out of her way; present but absent from sight. Abe nodded and motioned toward his second to notify the stable master of her arrival. Michonne's palfrey, Flash, was groomed, saddled and bridled and impatiently waiting for her when she arrived. She'd taken a quick detour to leave a basket for a tenant that had recently taken ill. She planned to call on them later in the day, not wanting to disturb them at such an early hour. She murmured hello to the horses she passed, familiar with all the ones owned by her family. There were many empty stalls to house the mounts of their frequent guests and she wondered how many the prince would bring with him.

Michonne kissed Flash in greeting and giggled when he nickered and then lipped at her hand for his treat.

"You are spoiled, my friend. You haven't even done anything to earn this yet," she chided, opening her hand to reveal a peppermint she'd brought for him.

With the help of one of the stable hands, she mounted, her exercise gowns useful for riding astride. She led Flash over to the fields at a trot and once there, she sat forward in her seat and squeezed her legs against him to direct him to go faster. Soon, they were galloping over the grass. She squinted against the hard wind that rushed over her and peeled her locs free from their loose bun until they were steaming behind her. She lost herself in the joy of the ride, the speed and the sensation of flying. Time passed and both princess and horse were heaving when she slowed him down. She spotted Rosita talking to Abe near the old potter's shack. Holding the reins in one hand, she steered Flash back to the stables, taking the long way along the wall perimeter and slipping by Abe unnoticed.

There was no one in the stables when she arrived, but she didn't need any help to ready Flash to return to his stall. She'd been taught at a young age how to properly care for the horses and after he got his fill from the trough, she walked Flash over to the large open pen used to wash the horses. She cleaned the sweat and dirt off him and was rubbing him dry with a towel when she heard an unfamiliar voice talking to Ruby, a broodmare, several stalls down.

The voice belonged to a man and was baritone, gravelly; the accent unusual for her kingdom. Michonne wondered if it was someone with the Alexandrian prince, but it was too soon for them to have arrived. Her neck prickled and her heart raced and she felt the need to protect herself but was at a loss as to what from. Her reaction wasn't rooted in fear yet she wished she had her sword with her or had at least waited for Abe's escort. The stranger's footsteps came nearer to where she was, and she slipped by Flash's head to wait by his flank, effectively putting him between her and the opening. He flicked his tail and stomped his hooves at her unusual behavior, discomfited by her anxiety. She closed her eyes and focused on slowing her breaths. The footsteps stopped and she imagined the man searching for her.

"Hello?"

She debated not answering; surely she could wait him out. Abe couldn't be that far behind.

The voice was closer when he spoke again. "Milady? I'm sorry to trouble you, but could you direct me to a groomsman?"

Michonne took a deep breath and revealed herself, promptly forgetting to exhale as she came face to face with the most fine-looking man she'd ever met. She realized he had entered the pen and now stood practically in front of her. Her heart continued to pound but she refused to step back to reclaim her personal space. She liked being this close to him. He was beautiful; his chestnut hair curly and long enough to brush the collar of his tunic. His eyes rivaled the blue of the sky now that the sun had burned away the fog. She hadn't been partial to beards before now but his perfectly trimmed whiskers made her want to run her fingers over his jaw. He was smiling at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners and she was powerless to look away. She smiled back.

"Beg pardon?" She asked, not recalling his question.

Rick remained frozen; certain an absurd grin was stuck on his face. He tried, but he couldn't stop smiling. He hadn't realized it was a lady he was seeking out for assistance and he was now captivated, speechless in the presence of this stunning beauty. _Who was she?_ He thought, as he lost himself in the intense dusk of her eyes, richer in color than earth's precious soil, and he felt as if her gaze also gave him sustenance and life. Her skin was the luxurious brown of smoky quartz and gleamed in the sunlight peeking through into the stables. Her hair was down and loose about her shoulders. He longed to touch her, discover if her skin was as soft as it looked. With effort, Rick recalled what he was looking for and remembered not to identify himself as the prince.

"I'm, ah, looking for a stable hand. For one of the prince's steeds," he replied, pointing to his horse. "The prince of Alexandria," he added unnecessarily.

Michonne moved over to the stall opening to get a better look at the horse he referred to. Rick watched her, admiring her figure and thinking belatedly that Sasha would appreciate such a dress. She could stop stealing from the squires.

Michonne marveled at the prince's stallion. He was a magnificent beast, well taken care of, at least fifteen hands high and deep mahogany in color with a matching tail and mane.

"Oh, he's beautiful. What's his name?"

"Nebraska," Rick answered, watching her closely. He moved toward her, to regain the proximity from just a few moments ago.

"Like the kingdom?" Nebraska was a gorgeous name for a horse; as gorgeous as the man before her.

"For his grandsire. Who came from that kingdom."

"They make them this big there?"

Rick hesitated, not sure if he should be speaking about the topic of breeding with a lady, but his desire to flirt with her overrode common sense.

"They make them this big in Alexandria," he replied, his eyes traveling from her lips down the front of her body.

"Oh." Michonne blushed and turned away from the handsome stranger, her body tingling from his blatant perusal. She was sure he was referring to more than just the stallion's height. To distract herself from such wayward thoughts and to discourage any further inappropriate conversation, Michonne focused back on the horse. Talking to Nebraska in a low voice, she reached out and waited until his ears turned toward her before stroking him along his shoulder.

"Careful, he's edgy around strangers," Rick warned.

He was standing so close behind her she could feel the heat of his body. Michonne shrugged slightly, filled with the unexplained desire of wanting to show this man that she wasn't afraid. She didn't know why, she had nothing to prove to anyone and had never wanted to before. For some reason, she wanted to impress him; she wanted him to like her. She should be peppering this man with questions about the prince, but instead she wanted to flirt.

As she expected, Nebraska turned his long head her way, eyeing her as he waited for her next move. She continued talking to him and leaned in to blow on his nose. Nebraska chuffed out a deep breath back at her and made her laugh as he lapped at one of her locs. She turned back to Rick and without thought, he reached out to release Michonne's hair. They froze as the realization of how inappropriate his gesture struck was them. But Rick kept hold and rubbed the strand between his fingers, entranced by the soft coarseness.

Michonne gasped as he touched her hair, a liberty no man had ever taken before. She was shocked by his boldness. Was this man like this with all the ladies? Or was he like her, merely fascinated beyond reason by the person in front of him? Even so. . .

"Do you mind?" she asked sharply.

Rick met her eyes but didn't let go. Against reason and his upbringing, he wanted to see how much he could tease her. He refused to admit he simply couldn't help himself. He toyed with the loc until he loosened the bead and palmed it. He coiled the end of her hair around his finger and tugged. It was unlike him to be so bold.

Michonne's mouth fell open but she forgot was she was to going to say next. He was so close, so far in her personal space, she could smell him, an intoxicating blend of the soap he used, his sweat and the outside air. She leaned forward slightly to breathe in more of him. Staring at his full lips, she wondered if she was about to have her second kiss, this time with a complete stranger.

Rick leaned in so close he could smell the mint of her breath. Her lips were plump and he swallowed hard when her pink tongue peeked out to wet them. He wanted to grab a handful of her hair and give her the kiss they both wanted.

Abe appeared with the stable master, a deep frown on his face as he spotted them. He cleared his throat but did not speak, out of respect for the princess and to not reveal her identity in front of a stranger. Bixby, the stable master, followed his lead.

"I beg your pardon. Do forgive me," Rick said, dropping his hand and stepping back. He knew better. It wouldn't do for there to be any impropriety toward a maiden. But even now, he didn't regret his lack of manners; he wanted to touch her again. He glanced past her to the red-headed man standing with his hands on his hips and looking fair to explode. Rick regarded the lovely creature before him and fought the urge to steal that kiss. In full view of the guard obviously sent to fetch her. She must be of some importance in the kingdom if she had a chaperone looking for her and one that wore the kingdom crest at that. He wondered if she was related to the princess or one of her ladies-in-waiting. Rick considered asking her name, but it wouldn't matter. He was to marry the princess or no one here at all, if he could get out of it. He wasn't there to get entangled in anything else. Besides, he already had someone waiting for him. He sighed regrettably and took another step away.

Michonne backed away as well, watching as Bixby took Flash to his stall. Bixby returned for Nebraska and when he reached for the reins, the horse resisted, pulling back. Michonne smiled and gave Nebraska a peppermint.

"It's okay, Bixby and the boys will take good care of you during your stay here," she assured Nebraska. She smiled as he followed obediently behind Bixby.

"You should be joining your group," Abe directed the stranger.

"They'll be here shortly. I came ahead." Rick disliked the guardsman. His familiarity with the lady and his audacity to order Rick around. If only he knew.

"There's no need to wait here," Abe said.

Rick sniffed and nodded, and left the stables to wait at the gatehouse for Sasha, Glenn and the rest.

Michonne and Abe watched him walk away. She wondered who he was, how long he would be in Atlantica. She wanted to call out to him to ask his name, but it didn't matter.

"Where's he going?" she asked Abe.

"If he knows what's best, far out of my sight and away from you as possible."

"He is with the prince then?" Michonne asked as they walked to the hall.

"It would seem so."

They were halfway there when Abe stopped and faced Michonne. She followed suit.

"Princess, you broke our deal."

"I did no such thing. I stayed within the castle walls. I decided to walk Flash back to the stables myself since you were otherwise occupied."

"You looked mighty cozy with that young man. I had no idea who he was or what he could have tried to do."

"You were mighty cozy with Lady Rosita."

"Try again."

Michonne relented. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to cause you more trouble. When I entered the stable, it was empty. He arrived just as I was finishing up with Flash. He was looking for a stable boy."

Abe nodded. "No games. Your heart is not available for the taking; it never has been. No repeats of the mid-summer festival. I knew Sir Michael was up to no good. I gave him just enough time to give a young lady a special moment but not do any lasting damage. I might have forgiven him for not fighting for you but never for breaking your heart. I can't allow that again."

"You're guarding my chastity as well?" She asked pertly.

Abe turned red that she would voice such a matter. They both knew he was. He was responsible for the protection and safety of the entire of her person. He refused to answer her question. "A bitter, broken heart is not suitable for marriage."

"There's no guarantee that I'll be marrying Alexandria's prince," Michonne declared.

Abe scowled, frustrated with her stubbornness. "Princess, you are my top priority. Your safety, well-being and happiness are my upmost concern. But I cannot defy your parents."

"Maggie is going to be me for a day or so, help us get to know the prince. Learn his heart. It will be okay. They do not have to know."

Abe shook his head as they continued walking.

"And you and Rosita?" Michonne asked.

"She imagines herself in love with me. I have never seen in her in such a way but no one else has shown any interest. If approved by your parents, it could be an acceptable match."

"An acceptable match? You make it seem like she's the last woman on earth available to you."

Abe was silent.

"Surely you want more than that in a life partner? I want it all," Michonne confided. "Like Momma and Papa. Even Lord Hershel was fortunate to find it twice, he loved both Maggie's and Beth's mothers and they him."

Abe remained close-mouthed as they entered the great hall.

"Don't break her heart."

"Don't know if that's possible. After this unfortunate situation with her mom, it may be damaged beyond repair."

"Nobody is beyond saving," Michonne said. "But it's not your responsibility to save her. She has to figure that out for herself. I love my cousin; and if you don't, leave her be. She won't survive anymore heartache. As I've been told, a bitter, broken heart is not suitable for marriage."

* * *

Several hours later, Rick wandered around the front room of the guest house that was to be his temporary home until he could return to Alexandria. He decided to take the smaller of the two chamber suites, leaving the larger one for Sasha and Lettie. They would create a makeshift room downstairs for Glenn since he wouldn't be able to stay with the rest of the guard as he was supposed to be the prince.

"Did you find out anything by coming ahead?" Sasha asked Rick, when she entered the parlor, referring to him arriving early under the pretense of being the prince's messenger. "Still trying to figure out why you wanted to." She set down the parasol that matched her dress.

"I was hoping to catch a glimpse of the princess, unawares before we all officially arrived."

"And did you?"

Rick thought of the lovely woman from the stables. He cleared his throat and shook his head as he sat on the settee. "No, I saw the stables. Nebraska and the others will be well taken care of."

"Well, I just met with the governess. She immediately stated that we would be presented to the princess without the King or Queen. Fairly odd if you ask me. And why are we in this guest house and not in rooms in the hall?"

Rick nodded, still distracted by his thoughts of his encounter in the stables. He hoped to see the lady again, regardless that no good could come of it. He remembered his dream from the night before. Someone here would be his downfall; he had to keep that in mind.

"Rick, are you paying attention?"

He continued to stare into the fireplace.

"You men are so foolish."

Rick looked up at her, a frown on his face. "What?"

"Seriously, the best way to get to know someone is to befriend them. I could become friends with the princess and her ladies and learn a great deal about her in a matter of days. More than either you or Glenn could in the course of a month. And we don't have a month, this charade you two are playing. This, pretending to be him and him pretending to be you. It was the best you could come up with?"

Rick sighed. "It was late, I was desperate."

"Desperate?"

"I'd had a nightmare. I may not have been thinking clearly."

They stared at each other until Sasha snickered. "No, no, do not tell me anything more. We need to depart, it's time to meet your princess."

"You go with Glenn, I'm not needed. Besides, he'll do better if I'm not there to distract him or worse, he has memory lapse and bows to me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'll be fine."

"Well, while you're here, lazing about, think about the end game for all of this. Because it will come to an end, Rick. Eloise is going to have so much to say and I want to be nowhere near you when that takes place. And yet, somehow, I feel I will be roped into those discussions regardless."

Rick watched Sasha leave, chuckling at the way she always referred to his mother when the queen wasn't around.

* * *

Michonne's maids made quick work of her preparing her bath and then changing her into a peach velvet gown once she had bathed. The gown was not as decorated as she would normally wear for royal guests, but for the next two days, she was to be a lady-in-waiting and wanted to play the part. Her hair was gathered into a low ponytail and plaited down her back.

Maggie wore her own finest dress, turquoise with a lace decorated bodice. She refused to wear the violet gown Michonne had intended to wear, telling the princess that even pretending to be a royal wasn't sufficient enough reason to actually wear purple. Maggie had reluctantly accepted a pearl necklace and matching drop earrings. The ladies sat down to enjoy the luncheon meal that was brought to them, although Michonne and Maggie picked at their food, too nervous to eat.

"Should I have young Beth down to play for us?" Andrea asked.

"No," Michonne said. "She might have questions and it would be best to keep her uninvolved in this matter."

Andrea nodded and carefully repositioned herself on an oversized chair, to keep her dress from wrinkling.

"I would like to send a solicitation to Sir Philip to join us in the solarium. Would you mind?"

"Were you not present during our plan?" Michonne asked, frowning at Andrea. "Maggie will be me and I her. I don't want Sir Philip to expose our deception or run back to tell my parents."

"I'm sure I can get him to agree to keep the entire matter in his confidence,"

"He is not welcome," Michonne said, exasperated.

"As you wish," Andrea agreed. "I just wanted him to see me in this dress. I feel exceptionally pretty today."

"And you look it too. You can see him later," Michonne assured her, standing up when she noted the time. The rest stood with her.

"It will be okay," Maggie said.

"Thank you for doing this for me," Michonne told her.

"I love you," Maggie said. "This is of no consequence."

Michonne hugged her. "I love you too." She turned to Rosita and Andrea. "And I love you two as well. You all reside in my heart." They all clasped hands.

Lady Carol arrived precisely on time. The guard waited outside her rooms for escort. Michonne, Maggie, Rosita, Andrea, Carol and the guard headed toward the solarium, walking silently and purposefully, the soft whispers of dresses sweeping the floor drowned out by the heavy footfalls of the men. The main passage to the other end of the great hall was wide and high and sunlight filtered through the array of stained glass windows. As they were passed, the castle servants stopped to give a quick dip or bow. There was chatter among them about the wedding. They were excited for their beloved princess to find love and curious about whom their next king would be, trusting Queen Amara to choose the right man to rule with their princess. Their eagerness was palpable to Michonne and further increased her anxiety. She realized she had forgotten to factor in Lady Carol and wondered how she would be able to usher Carol out of the room before the prince arrived.

Leading the group, Lord Abraham stopped outside the entrance to the solarium and quickly scanned the room. He turned on his heel and stepped to the side so the ladies could enter. They gathered near the fireplace, the floor to ceiling hearth made of multi-colored stone. The ladies stood without fidgeting, waiting patiently as they'd been taught years prior.

"They will be here shortly," Carol announced after reading the missive from a servant. Lady Carol was exasperated but did not let it show. Michonne and her ladies were dressed and acting appropriately; however, Michonne was not wearing the dress intended for this meeting and Maggie was in her finest. Carol was thrilled about the visit and the pending merger of her home kingdom with her current kingdom. She anticipated seeing a few old friends she'd served with when she'd lived at the Hilltop, a township several hours north of Rising Moon. She'd enjoyed her work at the large keep that served as the royal family's summer residence. Understanding her situation with Edward, Queen Eloise had been quick to give her leave to depart their service and relocate to another kingdom, providing her with a high recommendation so she could gain freedom and begin anew. After Edward perished due to blood poisoning from an infected wound, Queen Eloise had sent word to her, but by then, she had made a place for herself at Atlantica. There were too many bad memories there and even now, years later, sometimes it still didn't feel real, that Ed was gone. Carol had not seen the young princes see they were in nappies, tow-headed toddlers, trying to run before they could even walk. It had been a hard pregnancy for Queen Eloise, carrying twins, and she'd been sick for weeks at the start and eventually confined to bed as she increased.

"I think I can handle it from here," Michonne said.

"I think not," Carol said. "What is going on? Out with it," she commanded in her most serious tone; one that the girls could never defy.

Michonne opened her mouth to confess when their guests arrived.

Lady Carol stepped forward to introduce herself. She prepared to announce the princess when a young man who was definitely not Prince Richard but wore the formal dress of an Alexandrian royal, step forward to introduce himself as such. She raised her eyebrows as Michonne stayed in place and Maggie stepped forward, introducing herself as the princess. Carol could not suppress a grin at the turn of events. She would send Abe to discreetly find out where Prince Richard was hiding; she was sure he was somewhere at Hearts Aflame. She decided to let this one play out while she enjoyed her tea. The prince and her princess would complement each other nicely. She would be nearby to intervene if events made a turn for the worse or all wasn't settled before King Henry and Queen Eloise arrived.

Michonne's heart sank as the prince stepped forward. It wasn't him, the man she'd met in the stables. It was silly, hoping that it would be him. She was as fanciful as she claimed Andrea to be, thinking it might have been. Why would a prince pretend to be a servant and stable his own horse? Years of training in decorum kept her expression free of the disappointment washing through her as she watched Maggie and the prince greet each other. The prince was attractive; with a kind, intelligent face. But he wasn't _him._ Maggie would continue to take her place until they knew more about this prince. More than what could be revealed in three conversations. Carol had planned the coming days full of activities and lots of time spent with each other. She stared at the door to see if anyone else would join them.

Maggie stood transfixed and speechless by the man before her. This was the prince? The one here for Michonne? He was her fair handsome, with black hair and half-moon shaped dark eyes. Maggie glanced over at Michonne and silently pleaded for her to intervene but Michonne looked past her and refused to meet her eyes. Never in her life had Maggie ever wanted something that was for Michonne. But she wanted this prince. She was in a world of trouble.

Glenn knew he was in trouble the moment he entered. He had hoped the young woman in the orange dress would be the princess, but as he feared, it was the one in blue. He couldn't look away from her. It was the absolute worse outcome for this ruse. That he, Lord Glenn, would begin to fall in love with the princess intended for his prince. They continued to stare and smile at each other, each at a loss of how to continue; both wanting to confess but remaining silent due to their deep loyalties and promises.

"I'm grateful to make your acquaintance." Glenn greeted.

"Likewise, your highness."

"Please, call me. . .Glenn." He didn't want to hear her call him by another man's name.

"Glenn?"

"Ah, my family name."

Maggie nodded, she wasn't sure she would be comfortable being so familiar with him, but she liked the name. It suited him. She wanted to know more about him; she wanted to know everything. She looked back over at Michonne and watched with dismay as Michonne walked away and sat at one of the window seats.

Sasha watched the young ladies from Atlantica. Something was amiss. The brunette seemed unsure and kept looking at the lady that had been standing next to her. The one in the peach gown who held herself like a queen. Or a queen in training. Sasha looked around the room. The king and queen weren't present. There were no portraits of any of the royal family in the solarium. She and Rick were staying in the guest house when typically, as royal visitors, they would be housed in the great hall. It all clicked and Sasha gasped when she realized what must be afoot. She wanted to laugh at the irony of it all. She smiled as she realized the princess and Rick were a match for each other already.

Sasha walked over to the window.

"I'm Lady Sasha," she introduced herself.

"Lady Margaret," Michonne said, subduing a cringe. She hoped she would remember to respond to Maggie's name.

"Your princess, she's a meek one."

Michonne smiled. "I wouldn't mistake reserve for lack of depth in character. The stillness of a lake does not reveal its depths just by sight."

"Be that it may, she still seems awfully uncertain. Like she's completely uncomfortable in that lake." Sasha leaned over to whisper, "I know who you are."

"Of course, we just met," Michonne replied.

Sasha decided to show her hand. She bent at the knee and curtsied.

"Stop that!" Michonne commanded, reaching out to help Sasha stand. "Get up before someone sees you."

Sasha grinned. "Don't worry, I won't tell."

"Truly?" Michonne tilted her head toward Maggie and the prince. "What about your prince?"

Sasha looked at Glenn, still making lovesick eyes at the pretend princess.

"This can't go on forever, but he'll be okay. However, when it all comes to light, remember that we all serve at the pleasure of our crown and kingdom."

Michonne thought it an odd thing to say and just as odd that the prince's cousin would keep mum about her deceit, but she was elated to have met a new acquaintance, someone like-minded.

"Your hair is beautiful," Michonne admired Sasha's curls. They shined, thick and tight, as they flowed about her head.

Sasha touched her hair. "Thank you. I like your hair too. I noticed how beautiful your locs were as soon as I entered."

Michonne thanked Sasha. She thought of the man who had played with her hair that morning and resisted the urge to ask Sasha about him. "My mom started them as soon as I had enough hair to twist. I was practically bald until I could walk. She said it must be from my father as all the babies on her side were born with full heads of hair," she said instead.

They laughed.

"What do you use to moisturize?" Sasha asked.

"Coconut oil. You?"

"Argan oil."

"Argan oil? Really?"

"Yes, it's just as good as coconut oil but it's lighter and smells so good. I'll have my maid send some over. I have more coming with our monarchs so I have plenty to share."

"That would be lovely," Michonne said, thrilled to try something new. "Please, call me Michonne."

"And call me Sasha."

"How are your rooms?"

"More than adequate. Although I fear getting too comfortable as I anticipate a move in a few days."

"You are too kind to not complain. I just need a day or two. Mystic Wonder is our best guest house."

"Does everything here have a name?"

Michonne laughed. "Almost. The queen is creative and artistic."

They continued talking, building a new friendship, until the group separated until their next get-together.

Sasha took her time returning to Mystic Wonder. She followed the cobblestone path that would take her straight to the guest house. She noticed her surroundings, considering the possibility that Atlantica could soon be her new home, if Rick didn't ruin this and Eloise gave her leave to stay. Sasha could not keep from smiling over the secret she'd uncovered, content to let Rick continue along with his ploy, knowing that neither Michonne nor Glenn were in danger in falling in love with each other. She hummed to herself, elated, greeting those she passed and exchanging pleasantries. She was walking by the smithy when she felt it, the sensation that she was being watched. She slowed, and glanced behind her, seeing nothing at first. She stopped altogether and completed a full circle. She began to chide herself for silliness when she saw him. He stood several yards off to her left, staring intensely at her. He was tall and muscular, his red hair glinted like fire in the sunlight. He continued to watch her as she met his eyes and when she raised her eyebrow, he didn't look away. She was intrigued by his daring. He seemed familiar but she didn't know who he was or why he was following her. She had been assured that she would be safe at Hearts Aflame but she had nothing nearby to protect herself in case that wasn't the situation.

Sasha continued on her way and slipped inside the next building she came to. She realized immediately that she'd entered the butchery and she bit her lip to keep from covering her nose against the stench. The butcher looked up at his guest and a puzzled smile crossed his face as he wiped bloodied hands on his apron.

"May I help you, milady?"

"Yes, please. There's a man out there and I don't know who he is and I fear he may be following me. I'm Lady Sasha of Alexandria, cousin to the Prince Richard and I've not had a chance to meet everyone yet. Would you mind taking a peek and letting me know if he is familiar to you?" She described the man.

Gareth bowed his head in greeting. He went to the doorway, too accustomed to dealing with nobility to find their requests odd. He looked around until he found who she was referring to and raised his hand in greeting.

"Hallo Abe!" he called out. Going back inside, he faced Sasha. "Aye, that's Sir Abraham, the head of our Princess' guard. He's likely making sure you reach your destination safely."

Sasha sighed with relief. So the man wasn't stalking her; she was overreacting. "Thank you kind sir," she said.

"Your prince and our princess, eh? We're plenty excited for more royal babies in our kingdom. My mum can't stop talking about the upcoming nuptials. It will be a ceremony for the ages. We'll be proud to provide the meat for the wedding banquet."

"Oh yes, indeed," Sasha said, smiling as she departed. Stepping outside in the bright sun, she gulped at fresh air. She spotted Sir Abraham immediately and pursed her lips at him before continuing on. She would give him a dressing down for scaring her. He could have at least introduced himself, let her know what he was about. She would have to thank Michonne for sending her best to escort her home. On the way, she kept glancing over her shoulder to find him keeping his distance but still following her. He didn't smile or acknowledge that she had spotted him, so she didn't stop walking. She reached the guest house and paused before going inside. She turned around and faced his way, her hands on her hips.

"I see you," she called out to the man.

"And I you," he returned, before bowing to her and walking away.

Rick had stepped outside and noted Sasha's agitation. He looked past her and recognized the man from the stables. He frowned. "Was he bothering you?" he asked.

She shook her head no. "Foolish men," she muttered, walking inside the house. She handed her parasol to the steward, then headed to her room to relax before their forthcoming engagement. Rick followed her.

"Tell me about the princess," he insisted.

"She seems to be yet another young lady to save. Your usual type indeed. Lord Glenn was certainly infatuated."

Rick frowned. That didn't sound like the maiden he'd seen in the stables. That one had been audacious.

Sasha rubbed her fingertips along her temple. "Rick, I've an ache. I'd like to rest before we meet the princess and her ladies in the gardens for tea." She also wanted to think more of her walk back from the great hall and her unusual interaction with the handsome Sir Abraham.

"Today?"

"Yes, in just over an hour. I've to change and I'd like to rest a bit beforehand, so you need to leave."

"I'll attend as well." He needed to be there. Just in case Sasha had it wrong.

An hour later, Rick, Sasha and Glenn were escorted to the gardens, where they were to take tea and a stroll with the princess and her ladies. Sasha walked between the two men, all three of them lost in their own thoughts.

"My dear Lord Glenn, what do you think if the lovely princess?" Sasha asked as they approached the gardens. An ornate iron gate was at the entrance, with the words 'Everyday Gardens' welded into the metal in the arch overhead.

Glenn blushed, glad Sasha couldn't see his thoughts. Since their meeting, he had been thinking non-stop of the princess. He cleared his throat. "Well, she is lovely," he said slowly.

"Is that all? I thought she was stunning. Her gorgeous hair, glowing skin and beautiful eyes. She is certainly a treasure."

"Yes she is all of those things."

"What things?"

"Gorgeous, beautiful, a treasure," Glenn half-spoke to himself. He looked over at Rick. "Our prince is a lucky man."

"I was thinking the same myself." She gave Rick a smug smile and a wink.

Rick scowled at his cousin. What mischief was she trying to stir up? As if she was party to some secret and was unwilling to share with him. Hope bloomed in his chest. What if, what if, the princess was the woman he'd met in the stables earlier? Would fate be so generous? But if she was the princess, why would she be cleansing horses? Why didn't he ask her who she was?

Inside the gardens, the trio joined the group of young ladies at a table laden with tea, chocolate and Cook's best pastries. Rick intentionally walked behind Glenn, stopping himself several times from leading the way. As everyone renewed their introductions, he agreed that the princess was pretty. He didn't see the stunning good-looks that Sasha and Glenn had alluded to, but he'd already met stunning earlier. Rick's mind wandered as everyone was introduced and he was glad Glenn was in his place. There was nothing wrong with the princess; he just had no desire to get to know her better. There was someone else he wanted to know better. Maybe the princess and Glenn would fall in love and he would be released. While waiting, he looked around, realizing belatedly that he was searching for _her_. Listening with half an ear, he bowed when he was introduced as the royal manservant and messenger before Sasha was presented. The princess dipped in a low curtsey to Sasha and when she did, the maiden standing behind her was revealed. Rick's thoughts of how unusual it was for the princess to defer to Sasha evaporated when he recognized her, from the stables. Once again, he was blown away. She was every bit as beautiful as he remembered. He smiled when she met his eyes.

Michonne was stunned. He was there, even more handsome than that morning. She was dismayed that he was not a nobleman. There did not exist a reality for her in which her parents would approve a match with a servant. She should pay him no heed; nothing fruitful could come of this infatuation. But when he approached her, she still smiled.

"May I bring you refreshment?" Rick asked her.

Michonne shook her head. She didn't care to eat or drink. She wouldn't be able, not with him there.

"There's a maze here," Michonne suggested to the group, not looking away from Rick. "It's not very difficult, but there is a beautiful fountain and a grove of peach trees if you make it to the center. The peaches there are the sweetest in all the kingdom."

"I like mazes." Rick stared at Michonne's lips. "And peaches."

Sasha frowned at her cousin, wondering when he'd taken up an interest in what he normally considered tiresome activities. She thought of numerous times Lady Jessica had called for a walkabout in the park or to take a picnic and he'd had Sasha give the widow some excuse of why he wasn't available. She watched as he stood there like an idiot, staring at Michonne. She'd never seen him like this. He was infatuated. With the princess of Atlantica and he didn't even know it.

"Well, okay then, let's make it a competition, shall we?" Michonne proposed. "There are four entrances into the maze. We can divide into groups of two. What should the winners get?" she asked.

"To choose tomorrow's afternoon activity," Sasha suggested.

Everyone agreed and paired off. Michonne and Rick, Maggie and Glenn, Rosita and Andrea. Andrea grumbled about wishing Sir Philip could join them. Sasha stood alone.

Glenn asked, "Would you like to join the princess and me, Lady Sasha?"

Sasha considered; she had been prepared to complete the maze on her own and win at that. Before she could respond, a shadow fell over her and she looked up into the pale blue eyes of Sir Abraham.

"I'll accompany the Lady Sasha," he said, smiling down at her.

Sasha nodded, at a loss for words as she took his arm.

Rosita narrowed her eyes as she watched them and stalked off toward the maze, Andrea hurrying to catch up with her. They group of eight entered the maze, each pair taking a different path and not a one of them concerned with being the first to make it to the center.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you all so much for the reviews and taking the time to read this story! Let me know what you think. I'm sorry it took so long to update, future updates won't take so long. Long story long, I started rewriting the outline and then decided I didn't like it and fell out of love with the story so I went back to my original and then kept getting distracted (I mean, have you seen all the Richonne goodness we've been getting!?). This is my first multi-chapter and navigating this has been an exciting yet bigger endeavor than I realized.


	3. The Heart's Desire

_Chapter 3 –The Heart's Desire_

Standing between two large stone planters on the balcony overlooking the Everyday Gardens, Carol watched as the group below broke up by twos and entered the maze. Abe had confirmed that the prince was indeed at Hearts Aflame, having taken up residence at the guest house with his party. Carol was thrilled to see that despite their attempts at deception, Michonne and Rick were still drawn to each other. She was also happily surprised by Abe's apparent interest in Lady Sasha. It was high time he'd fallen in love and settled down to start his own family.

Once she could no longer see any of them, she went inside for her meeting with the queen. When Carol entered the study, she paused when she saw Amara had a visitor. Carol smiled when she realized the queen was meeting with the kingdom's best tracker.

"Did you find anything new?" Queen Amara asked the young man standing before her. She narrowed her eyes but successfully kept from frowning at his appearance. He was grubby and disheveled, his leather coverings muddy and his brown hair hanging in his face. He must have come to her directly upon his arrival, not taking the time to tidy up beforehand.

"No ma'am," he answered. "Lady Rosario's trail ended at The Sanctuary; at the gorge leading up to the walls there."

"Any indication she taken by force into their kingdom?"

"I didn't find any. You want me to go inside, look around?"

Amara deliberated the potential outcome of such action. To provoke the attentions of a potentially hostile monarchy would not be judicious, especially with no evidence of any offense.

"No, not at this time. We did not anticipate that she went north. This is reassuring news although it is hard to believe that Rosario would go there without word to any of us, especially Benito or Rosita, but if she has emigrated of her own free will, it is not enough to warrant trespassing. I will talk to them to about this new information."

He nodded and continued to stare at the floor.

"Thank you Daryl. You may leave."

He turned around and came face to face with Carol. Carol beamed at her ward and reached out to touch his shoulder. Soon after her arrival at Atlantica, he'd come to them as an orphan, a boy found living in the woods outside the castle walls. No one had known how long he'd been out there and a search throughout the kingdom yielded no results on any residents missing a child. He didn't talk about the days before he came to them and he refused to take up permanent residence in the main keep, although he had a small chamber of his own. Daryl preferred to remain in the out of doors. She remembered the days she would give the girls their lessons in the gardens or fields and he would join them, sitting several yards away so he could still listen while pretending to ignore them. When the weather permitted, she had given lessons as often as she could in the open air.

"Daryl," she greeted.

He gave her a tight smile and a nod, his eyes sad. She wondered what new horrors he might have seen on his journey and what old horrors he would never be free of.

"My lady." He never addressed her by name, a habit she found peculiar at the start but to hear him call her anything else now would be unsettling.

"Before you go, please bathe and see Cook for something to eat."

He nodded again, but she knew he would likely only do one of her suggestions and if so, it would not be the former. After he departed, Carol gave a curtsy to Amara, and then sat in the chair next to hers.

"If only we could get Daryl to stay in the keep between his missions, get adequate rest, be part of the life here. I have requested, threatened, cajoled and bribed but to no avail."

"As have I."

"I have been equally unsuccessful in getting him to bathe regularly."

"Yes, that too."

"I worry that he does not assimilate. How many years since he came to us?"

"Half score at least. He will be okay; we will keep working on him."

"How does it go with Michonne and the prince?"

"Excellent. They are spending time together now, going through the maze."

"It is what I had hoped. I've decided that I will meet with them this evening. I look forward to meeting Eloise's youngest son. She wrote of him so fondly, I can tell he is her favorite although she would never admit so. It's been a great many years since I've seen her. Long before either of us were married. Or monarchs. Or mothers." Amara chuckled.

Carol's eyes widened and she thought on her words before speaking. "Perchance on the morrow? We did agree to give them some time without any interference. The prince and his party arrived just this day."

Amara considered. "I am hoping we can accelerate their courtship. To secure her safety and to guarantee her as the next successor."

"But she is already your heir apparent."

"Yes, but unmarried, she is still vulnerable. There may be those who seek to undermine our kingdom by taking her hand through subterfuge. We need the full protection that will come with matrimonial alliance to Alexandria."

"It sounds as if we are preparing for conflict."

"There is no harm in preparation. It is how Atlantica has remained prosperous and undefeated for so many years. There is something amiss within our borders and combined with the unpredictability of The Sanctuary, I am not willing to take any chances."

"Surely a standard treaty would have been sufficient." Carol asked.

"No, not for this. We need to have the Kingdom of Alexandria cemented as our ally as quickly as possible."

Carol thought of their connection to The Kingdom. "What about King Ezekiel?"

"I should have her marry him?" Amara asked, intentionally misunderstanding Carol's statement.

Carol blushed and looked at her lap. "That is not what I meant."

"I know. Forgive my teasing. He has shown interest in you, Carol. Why else would he visit so often? I do not mind but would prefer he left Shiva behind some of the time, especially when she is shedding. And the balls of hair she retches." Amara shuddered. "Our dear Ezekiel is eccentric but sincere. He is a good man. What are your misgivings?"

Carol shook her head, unable to put to words why she felt undeserving of love, even after all she had lost. How much was at risk to place herself at the mercy of a man once again; of any person who could mistreat her, raise their hand to her or try to control her.

"He is not him." Amara said softly, reading her accurately.

"I know. But sometimes the fear, the instinct to survive it is not forgiving; it does not release me. Even now, I sometimes wake at night, in a sweat, afraid he is coming for me when he has been dead all these years."

Amara grasped Carol's hand. She had never been victim to such abuse and when Lady Carol had arrived from Alexandria with correspondence penned personally from Eloise, Amara had not hesitated to find a place for her. Over time, Carol had thrived. "You will always have a home and protection here. You do not have to do anything not of your heart's desire," Amara assured her.

Before Carol could respond, there was a double knock at the door and the steward's assistant entered.

"We have not been able to locate him, Your Majesty."

"That won't do," Amara replied. The servant looked uncomfortable under her stare. "I asked you to get my husband, Horvath. Why are you back here without him or knowledge of his whereabouts?" Concern made her tone sharp and she felt the need to explain to Carol.

"Andreas has not arrived for our afternoon tea."

Carol nodded. The king never missed tea with his wife.

Amara stood and smoothed the skirts of her gown. "I will find him myself. Horvath, let's go." She turned to her ladies and advised them she would be back shortly, indicating they were not to accompany her.

Horvath followed behind his queen, gnawing on his lip in worry that his position might be in jeopardy. His employment at Hearts Aflame had recently commenced after he was dismissed from his last employ when they decided that his age had become a hindrance to him successfully completing his duties. It had been a blow to his dignity as he was still fit and of sound mind. It was a despicable but common practice, releasing the aged before they became too infirm to continue their position and the castle would be responsible for their welfare in their final years. Amara had interviewed him and after ten minutes, hired him straightaway; declaring he would be a welcome and useful addition to their administration staff.

"My queen, we've checked the throne room, solarium, library, chapel and his study but with no success. We are confident that he has not left the castle," Horvath informed her.

"The stables?"

"Yes ma'am. And the fields."

"Then he is here in the keep. What about the council room?"

"There is no council assembly today, ma'am. The room has been closed all day."

"It has not been checked?"

"No ma'am."

"Then off we go. And Horvath?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"You do not have to wear a hat inside the keep. We do not require it here."

"Yes ma'am."

They arrived at the double doors to the council room and Amara rested her hand on the cool oak, apprehensive about what she would find on the other side. She turned to Horvath. "Stay with me, do not leave until I dismiss you," she said.

Amara eased open one of the doors and peered into the dimly lit room. The great council met once every sennight and the past days of dormancy were evident. The room appeared empty at first and she waited until her eyes adjusted to the low light. She spotted her husband at the other end of the room, sitting at the large oval table; his head slumped to his chest. She kept her face free of alarm when she spotted who was with him. The problematic Sir Philip sat next to her husband, whispering in Andreas' ear. She detested the man. She had immediately been suspicious of him when he had arrived, injured and seeking refuge until he could move on. He'd never allowed the physician to see to his injuries; telling them all he had enough knowledge to heal himself, just needed rest and shelter. He'd been in good health for weeks, yet still wore a scrap of cloth around one eye, explaining the eye had been wounded beyond healing. Amara had sent word to his home kingdom after reading his dubious letter of recommendation, but she had not heard back. Andreas had told her many times that she was being paranoid, especially since she usually welcomed those ill-treated and in need.

The scene before her now was eerie and reinforced her belief that something was disturbing about Philip.

"My king, the council does not assemble until the morrow." She spoke in a normal and measured tone. Horvath was so close he almost bumped against her, but she welcomed his presence at her side.

"Ah, the lovely Queen Amara," Philip said, easing away from Andreas and sitting upright.

"Open the curtains, Horvath," Amara directed.

Bright sunlight lit up the room as the drapes were drawn back and secured. Amara continued to stare at her husband while she waited. The brown of his skin was like teak wood and usually shone with vitality and health. Now it appeared ashen and dull and the dark circles under his eyes had not been there that morning.

With a start, as if he had forgotten, Philip stood and bowed to her. She knew he disliked showing her deference, under some misguided delusion that he was her equal. Every time, she refused to acknowledge him until he had done so. She finally turned her eyes to him.

"Sir Philip. Leave us," she said, watching as Philip gathered his documents and left. Amara took his vacated seat next to Andreas, willing her husband to acknowledge her presence. She held his hand and pressed a kiss to his cheek. After a long moment, Andreas sighed and raised his head. He noticed her with a start, as if she'd just appeared and had not already been sitting with him. His eyes worked to focus on her face.

"My dear heart," he said with difficulty, his words slurred, his lids heavy.

Amara stroked his hand and arm. "I love you," she said and waited. Before long the haze in eyes cleared and he truly saw her.

"Amara," he whispered. His eyes darted around the room. "Something is not right."

"I know. I am going to help you."

"We are in peril."

"From what Andreas?"

He didn't answer, glancing again around the room. "Where is Michonne?"

"Spending time with Prince Richard of Alexandria. She is to marry him, do you remember?"

Andreas nodded. "I do. She is well?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Headstrong as usual."

A sennight ago, he would have grinned proudly at Amara's exasperation that their daughter took so much after her mother in behavior and temperament. Instead, he looked up her in panic, reaching out to cup her cheek.

"Please help me, my love" he said. The haze in his eyes returned and he was lost to her once again, his head dipping until his chin rested on his chest and his breathing slowed. He appeared to be asleep, but his eyes remained open. Amara felt numb, her heart breaking.

She looked over to Horvath. "Call the guard to escort the king to our chambers. Afterwards, bring the physician to me."

He nodded and headed toward the doors, pausing when she called out to him again.

"Horvath. You have a new undertaking. You will accompany King Andreas at all times. Do not, for any reason, leave him alone if I am not there."

Amara didn't know how she knew it, but she did. She was running out of time.

* * *

 _Everyday Gardens_

Among the twelve foot high hedges of the maze, Rick and Michonne walked their selected path, the silence strained as they moved along the bends and turns. Each wrestled over what to say, wanting to engage the other but cautious as to not say too much. As they walked, Rick selected leaves, picking the longest loose at their stems. Michonne stole furtive glances at her companion, his handsomeness was near crushing. She admired his physique, the way he walked, his overall confidence and ease. Like her being a princess didn't intimidate him. She realized ruefully that he didn't know she was a princess.

Rick noticed her frown. "Of what are you thinking?" he asked

"I was surprised to see you again," she blurted, the thought at the forefront of her mind. Being this close to him was making her harebrained.

"I was delighted." Rick met her eyes. He didn't look away.

"Yes, I was that too," she admitted, staring back at him. The intensity of his blue gaze produced heat that rose through her chest and warmed her heart.

They came upon one of the stone benches placed throughout the maze. Rick waited for her to sit and joined her after she had settled herself. He sat so close, Michonne wondered if she should move over to give him more room, but she suspected he would just follow her all the way across the bench. He motioned for her to cup her hands together and then gave her the leaves he'd gathered. One by one, he selected them, folding them into triangles and weaving them together. He seemed to prefer the leaves at the bottom of the tiny collection she held, his fingers rubbing her palms every time he chose one. Michonne's breath hitched as she watched his nimble fingers work.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"You'll see."

With his head bent she stared at the thick waves of his hair. Her fingers ached to discover if his curls were as soft as they looked. She remembered him playing with her own hair in the stables and thought it would only be fair. She was working up the nerve to do just that when he twisted in the last leaf and formed a small circle. He didn't look at her as he trailed his hand from her elbow to her wrist, and encircled it with his fingers. They both stared at the beautiful contrast of the darkness of her skin with the fairness of his. The sensation from their contact pulsed through her. She noted a slight reddening of his neck and ears and felt relieved that she wasn't the only one affected. He slipped the bracelet he'd made over her hand and let her go.

"Thank you," she said, admiring her gift. She twirled the small band on her wrist. "Is this recompense for my bead?" she teased.

"What bead?" Rick asked, pleased that she had realized.

Her laughter washed over him and he smiled at her happiness.

"You know what bead."

"Finders keepers. I have something of yours and you now have something of mine."

"This is lovely." She held up her arm again.

Rick grinned; delighted she would enjoy such a simple item. He thought of the real jewels he could gift her. Of all the things he could give her: horses, musical instruments, books, manor houses, servants, the life of a princess. Anything her heart desired.

"If we are to keep exchanging gifts," Michonne said, "I wonder what else of mine I can give you."

Rick's neck and ears reddened further at the vivid thoughts of what exactly she could give him; that he would beg for. That he wanted her to give to no other, ever. Her kisses, her touches, herself.

"What? What are you thinking?"

He shook his head and blew out a hard breath. He was losing himself, in over his head. His attraction to her was intense and unrivaled. As unique and extraordinary as she was.

"Thank you again," she said. "It's been years since I indulged in such childhood delights. Our governess taught us to make these in the schoolroom. How did you learn to make these?"

"One of my governesses when I was younger. She showed us."

"As a messenger, you had a governess?

"As a child of the castle, I was included in the royal studies."

Michonne considered this. It wasn't an unusual practice in many castles. At Hearts Aflame, servant children were sometimes included in her studies. She watched small birds flitting overhead, calling to each other from hedge to hedge. The blue sky stretched for miles around and matched the brilliance of her companion's eyes.

"We do that here, twice monthly. Otherwise the children of the servants have their own instructor until they are of age to apprentice. Do you enjoy being a messenger?"

"I have so far."

"You did not want to become a knight?"

Rick answered with his true feeling on the matter. "I think it's noble to be a knight and I respect them; they keep their kingdoms safe and protected. If treated well and with respect, they will serve loyally and selflessly give the ultimate sacrifice. But given my family connection to the castle, a different path is expected of me."

"What path is that?"

"Not to join the knighthood."

When she looked back to him, he was noticeably closer.

"May I kiss you?" He asked.

"You are bold. I do not even know your name."

He was very close, his eyes focused on her lips. She licked her bottom lip and inhaled deeply when his eyes widened. The knowledge that she affected him as much as he affected her comforted her; she wasn't alone in this whirlwind of emotions.

Distracted, he answered without thought. "It's Rick."

"Like the prince?" For a moment, one weighty instant, Michonne's heart expanded with hope.

Rick admonished himself for his gaffe, but realized he wanted to hear his name on her lips. That if she thought of him when he was not around, she was not assigning another's name to his face.

"Like Richard, my father's youngest brother," he answered honestly. "It's a common enough name in Alexandria."

"Oh."

"And your name?"

Michonne was prepared to answer, pondering this the very moment they had stepped into the maze. She didn't want him calling her Maggie, but she couldn't give him her real name. He would know immediately who she was.

"It's Em."

"For Emma? Imogen?"

"Emme." It had been her childhood nickname, one she had not been called in years.

"Emme," he repeated. "I like it. It's beautiful. So are you."

If it was possible, he scooted even closer, until his thigh was pressing against hers. "May I call you Emme?"

"Yes." Her voice was low. "And I can call you Rick?"

He nodded. "Emme. . .about that kiss."

Michonne laughed. "You're a rascal. Let's continue on shall we?" She stood and reached out for his hand. He obliged her, his hand warm and secure in hers. He laced their fingers and tingles raced to her shoulder. They stood staring at each other.

"It's not fair, don't you think?" Rick said, trying not to look at the bodice of her dress.

"What's that?" she asked, smirking.

Rick caught her tone and realized he had failed and was staring at her mounds. He blushed.

"I like you too," she whispered with a smile.

"It can't be helped. Do you know how exquisite you are?" he whispered back.

"Thank you." As they resumed walking, she remembered his statement. "What's not fair?"

"That you and your countrymen already know the way. Could lead to an unfair advantage."

"And there's at least one of us paired with one of you. It only matters if we want to win. Do you want to win?"

"Who's to say I'm not winning now?"

His words put a smile on her face and she broke his gaze as she looked ahead. She was elated but conflicted; as if she was winning and losing at the most significant test of her life. It was a waste of energy to do so, but she wished Rick was the prince, that he was the one to whom she was betrothed. For a time, she could pretend. Maggie had agreed to two days, for the remainder of today and all of the morrow, she could live in the fantasy that she was getting to know her the man that would have her hand and her heart.

"Tell me about you," she requested.

"I have a brother."

"Is he older? Younger?"

"He is older. And you?"

"I am an only child."

"Were you lonely?" Rick tried to imagine her as a child. He wondered if even then she was poised and composed, not a hair out of place or if she ran around underfoot, her hair loose, causing mischief, enjoying the outdoors at every moment like he and his brother. He remembered first seeing her this morning and suspected it was the latter.

"No, I have a cousin and two close friends that are like sisters."

"The princess being one?"

Michonne nodded. There was an awkward pause as each wondered what to say next.

"Tell me about your princess." Rick felt obligated to ask.

Michonne considered her words. "She is a good person. She'll be a great leader for this kingdom one day."

"I heard that she was obstinate, willful."

Michonne shrugged, not confirming or denying the charge. She couldn't tell if he appreciated or loathed those traits. "Aren't we all? Is this what you want to do, talk about the princess?" Her exasperation with being jealous of herself came through in her tone. She thought herself ridiculous but couldn't help it.

He shook his head. "I'd like to know more about you."

"I am one and twenty and much like the princess, I am determined. I love my family and my kingdom fiercely. I am very close to both my parents. I believe family is everything; whether by blood or just love. I would do anything for the people here, to keep them safe and help them succeed."

Rick watched her closely, at the motions her hands made as she talked. He wondered if she knew how expressive she was when she spoke of what moved her. He felt connected to her. "I too am much the same," he said. "Except I have twenty-six years."

"Oh, you are an old man," she teased. "How is it you are not married yet?"

"Mayhap I had to meet you."

Michonne sobered, looking down at her feet. "That would never be possible."

"How do you know," Rick asked.

"My position here. It will not allow me to consider the match of someone not of royal blood."

"By whose authority?'

"My parents."

"Do you always do what your parents say?"

Michonne considered for a moment. For all her stubbornness and independence, ultimately she was obedient. Except for now. Spending time with this man, she being defiant.

Michonne nodded. "For all my attempts at rebelliousness, I will always do what is best for Alexandria."

"Maybe I could win your heart and that would be enough to win your hand."

Michonne smiled. She was sure Rick had already won her heart, but knew from experience, it would not be enough for her hand.

"One out of two is all there can be. And even with that, I would be selfish and want yours too."

"Then we should follow our hearts," Rick concluded. In that moment he knew he would never marry Atlantica's princess, nor would he marry Lady Jessica. His heart belonged, for now and always, to the woman with him now. He would not recite vows with another with his heart linked with hers.

* * *

 _Throne Room_

"Do you have an update for me?" Amara inquired of the physician and his apprentice. She sat on her throne as they met, swallowing her impatience. "You've examined him multiple times now and I've yet to receive a treatment plan."

Sir Harlan was at a loss, confounded as the symptoms the queen described had not been evident when he observed King Andreas. "Your Majesty, we are still compiling the findings and researching the physician's tome of maladies. Additional consultations are needed; however, His Majesty is not willing to continue with our examinations.

"Based on what you have gathered thus far, what is wrong with him?"

Harlan shuffled through his papers. "It seems to be an underlying infection of a complex nature. Or conceivably the early stages of mind forgetfulness. I'll need more time to review all the data we have collected."

"That is what you were already tasked with. Something is wrong. He has lost weight and often of late, he is lethargic and confused, distracted. The essence of whom he has altered; he is slowly becoming less the Andreas I know."

"He was alert and aware during our examinations. I could not find any change."

"I have been married to this man for twenty-six years and we are rarely apart. I know of which I speak."

"I beg your pardon, Your Majesty." Harlan bowed low.

Amara gritted her teeth, frustrated. She wondered what more she could do to help Andreas.

The physician's assistant opened her mouth to speak but then closed it when Harlan glared at her.

"Lady Denise, do you have something to add?" Amara asked her.

"There is another possibility." Her voice was hesitant and she fidgeted under the queen's intense stare. She worried of the consequences her words could bring.

"Speak up."

Denise took a deep breath. "There might be another possibility. His Majesty could be under a spell; entranced." She sighed heavily with the relief of finally sharing what had been her growing concern.

Amara's heart pounded in her chest. "That is not possible. Magic is forbidden among the kingdoms. What would cause you to say such a thing?"

"I have no other explanation for his ailment, my queen. The changes in his mood and his personality, which occur randomly and with no biological basis. At least, none that Sir Jeffrey and I have been able to find. He is fighting a battle within himself; trying to retain ownership of his soul."

"If that is the case, how do we free him?" Amara asked.

"What do we have here?" King Andreas' deep baritone rang out and the trio looked over as he entered the room. Harlan bowed and Denise curtsied. Amara was relieved to see her husband was his usual self and in good mood as he walked toward her, holding her gaze. She smiled as if they were the only two in the room; the love she held for this man still amazed her. He was tall and self-assured, his color returned and his teeth gleaming as he gave her his best smile. Several years ago, he had begun losing his hair and at the time had his valet shave him bald and continued to do so. She had thought she would miss the hair but she adored his smooth head and full beard. She looked past him and spied Horvath near the entrance.

"I am meeting with the physicians about your well-being," Amara answered. "If you recall, you and I discussed needing to find out more about your recent health concerns."

"I am fine. Nothing more is needed," Andreas insisted, stopping at the steps to the throne platform and turning to the medics. "My wife worries overmuch. I am absolutely fine and refuse to sit for any more of your assessments. You are both dismissed."

Harlan and Denise exited the room. Andreas ascended the platform steps to where the thrones were positioned sat down at Amara's feet. He rested his head on her thigh. The remaining servants in the room lowered their eyes respectfully.

"How was your slumber?" Amara asked him, placing a hand on his jaw.

"Revitalizing. I am feeling well rested." He reached under the hem of her gown to close his hand around her ankle. "You will be consumed with all your worry. All is okay," he told her.

"Andreas, do you remember this afternoon?"

"Do you long to make me feel contrite about my blunder this afternoon? Indeed, I am remorseful about missing our time together."

"No, my love. All is forgiven. Do you remember why you missed it? When you were in the council room with Sir Philip?"

"There was no need to be there today. I do not know why I would meet there alone with Sir Philip."

"I do not know either. I was hoping you could answer that for me. It was very unusual. I wonder about his motives here."

"He is not malicious as you make him out to be. In truth, he is becoming a close confidant. Philip has submitted to be a permanent resident of Atlantica. He would like to join the great council, but he cannot be voted in if he is not a resident. He believes in our kingdom and desires to see it grow and prosper. For our army to be strong and undefeated."

"He has told you these things?" Amara asked.

"Yes. I would like for you to get to know him as I have."

"There are many things I would like to know about him. I will have an audience with him; we should conduct his admittance interview ourselves, perchance with one or two others present."

Andreas grunted in agreement. His fingers danced around her calf. "I still feel regretful about our tea."

"It was not your fault."

"Be that as it may, I yearn to make it up to you." He sat up and twined their fingers. "Let's take dinner in our chamber this night."

Amara smiled in anticipation of what his suggestion meant. "What about our guests?"

"I think they can eat without their monarchs for one eve."

* * *

 _Everyday Gardens_

Rick and Michonne strolled through the maze, conversing non-stop, the topics ranging childhood memories to current interests, each able to be truthful without revealing their identity. Michonne realized they would soon come upon the center of the maze. There was a chance they would not be the first there and her time with Rick would come to an end. When they arrived at the last fork, Michonne indicated they should go left and she lagged several steps behind Rick. He stopped abruptly when he came to a wall of shrubbery, a dead-end.

Rick spun around to face her, the look on his face relaying his confusion.

"Have you forgotten the way?"

She walked until she was right in front of him, her front almost pressed against him. Rick's hands automatically found her waist. He couldn't stop the slight tremors at what he anticipated.

"About that kiss—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Rick pulled her closer and bent his head to capture her lips. She raised her hands to his neck as his grip on her hips tightened. In the mild afternoon air, amid bright sunshine and random calls of birds overhead, among the familiar aroma of earth and plants, Michonne experienced her first real kiss. The moment imprinted into her memory; the heat of his full lips on hers, the unique and pleasant smell of him, the softness of his beard, the curls of his hair in her hands. She closed her eyes and everything was magnified. _This_ , she thought, _this_.

Rick knew he would never get enough of her. He relished her warm body against his; firm and supple at once, her taste that kept him wanting more; her scent mixed with the flowers and sunshine and he wanted more. He wanted all of her. Rick gave her several more pecks before sucking on her bottom lip. She gasped and he gave her his tongue. The kiss went deeper and Michonne shivered. Emboldened, she met his tongue with hers and with his moan, knew that he liked it. She tangled her tongue with his again, eliciting another moan from him. She kept at it until she was out of air. Rick pulled her even closer. The kiss continued, unhurried and thorough, each learning what they and their partner liked most.

"Meet me here at the midnight hour," Rick rasped. His words were muffled because he didn't take his lips from hers but she understood his words. She pulled away, her eyes dazed and her chest heaving.

"Here?" She asked, confused.

"Yes, here." He bent his head back toward hers, but her hand on his chest stopped him.

"I can't come out here at that time."

"Find a way," he repeated, insistent. His long lashes brushed his cheeks as he closed his eyes again and leaned in for another kiss.

"Is that all what you want? A good-time girl?"

Lost in the cloud of desire, Rick knew the mood had changed and he struggled to determine where he had blundered.

"No, no, not for that. I want to spend more time with you. Just you and me. I enjoy your company, talking to you. We won't do anything you don't want. This time, here with you, has been the most enjoyable I've had in ages."

Michonne felt the same. "I think we should get to the center," she suggested.

They reached the clearing in the middle of the maze. Like all the gardens in Atlantica, it was well manicured and maintained. Topiaries, plants and trees were positioned around a three-tiered fountain, the flowing water providing a musical background to the otherwise quiet space. They were the only occupants.

"Looks like we win," Michonne announced. "We get to decide the activity for tomorrow. Any ideas?"

"We can go for a ride," he suggested, remembering the horse she groomed in the stables.

"Oh, that sounds splendid. We can also enjoy a luncheon in the open air."

Rick nodded, looking forward to spending more time with her and wondering how he would be able to get her alone on a ride and picnic with others in attendance. He walked toward one of the trees bearing fruit, selecting one.

"You mentioned the peaches here." He handed it to her.

"Wait until you try one. They are incredibly delicious."

"We don't have a lot of peaches in Alexandria. One of our main fruit crop is apples. And grapes."

"I like apples."

"It's my favorite fruit. I can get. . the prince to send some over."

"He would do that?"

"Yes."

"Maybe it will be my favorite fruit too," she said.

Michonne sat on the concrete edge of the fountain and rinsed the peach in the swirling water. It was large and golden; its softness indicating it was at prime ripeness. When Rick sat next to her, she gave him the peach but he brought it to her mouth for her to take a bite.

Meeting his eyes, she held his hand as she took a full bite. As she had thought, it was incredibly juicy and a droplet traveled down to her chin. Rick reached out a finger to catch it and automatically licked his finger.

"You're right. It's incredibly delicious," he rasped out.

Michonne blushed, feeling overheated and as if she was falling.

They shared the remainder of the peach, using the fountain water to cleanse their sticky fingers when they were finished. Rick tossed the pit into the bushes and moved closer to Michonne. Heat radiated from where his leg was pressed against hers and she marveled that the man hardly ever gave her any space.

"Stop crowding me."

He didn't respond but he didn't move away either and she had her answer. Michonne laughed for no reason other than the joy of falling in love; being smitten with Rick and reveling in his company. She reached out to touch his beard, mesmerized by the color and softness, tracing her thumb along his jaw. Rick grabbed her hand and nuzzled at her neck. He dared to press his lips on her soft skin. When she didn't push him away, but instead angled her head so he could get closer, he obliged, sprinkling more kisses across her skin and breathing in her scent. He was intoxicated on her; infatuated and fast falling deeper in love. Happily and contentedly caught in a web she didn't know she had cast.

Michonne's eyes closed as his kisses produced tingles that raced down her arm and up to her ear. She was buzzing. His beard tickled and soothed as he kissed up her neck and along her jaw. He felt too good. A whimper escaped her lips when she felt his tongue trace the kisses he'd left and she wondered at the pull and power he had over her. She struggled for air and freed her hand to grip him on his shoulder.

"Wait, wait," she panted, the sensations overwhelming. She needed him to slow down.

Rick, too, was caught up in their passion, more powerful and devastating than he had ever experienced. His rested his head on her shoulder, breathing heavily.

"Well, this is interesting," Sasha said, her hard voice crashing over them. Rick raised his head and looked at Sasha. She wore a smile but he could tell by the glint in her eyes that she was not pleased. The rest of the group had arrived and stood stunned at the scene before them. Abe frowned. Maggie placed a hand over her mouth. Glen stared at the ground. Andrea's mouth hung open. Rosita watched them with wide eyes. There was a long moment of awkward silence as Rick and Michonne separated and got to their feet, standing several feet away from each other.

"I think everyone's had enough fun for the day. I'll escort the princess and her ladies back to the keep." Abe's deep voice broke the silence.

The group departed the clearing in silence, Abe leading the way. The path out of the maze was direct and upon exiting, they separated into two groups, one heading to the keep and the other to the guest house.

Rick wondered at the man who was always where Emme was, interrupting his time with her. "Why is he always here?" Rick grumbled as he, Sasha and Glenn walked.

Sasha knew he was referring to Sir Abraham. "He's the head of the princess guard."

Rick scowled. "You'd think he was guarding Emme," he muttered.

"Who?" Sasha asked.

"Her name is Emme," Rick responded and stalked ahead, not waiting for them.

When they arrived at Mystic Wonder, Sasha followed Rick into the parlor. "What are you doing?" she asked him as soon as they entered.

"Not now, cousin." Rick pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Do you know who she is?"

"I know enough."

"Does she know who you are?" Sasha persisted.

"She knows my name is Rick."

"What game are you playing?"

"It's not a game, I've fallen in love."

"You were just enamored with Jessie," Sasha scoffed. She should be elated that Michonne and Rick were clearly infatuated with each other but she worried that if they didn't confess, they would both be heart sore and bitter at the deception of the other.

"This . . . this is different," Rick said softly.

They stared at each other.

"With Jessie, have you ever . . . ?" Sasha's voice trailed off. She looked down, embarrassed that she had asked, but curious how he knew his feelings were reliable.

Rick shook his head. He and his cousin were close and talked of all manners of topics, and the thought of doing with Jessie what he only now wanted to do with Emme made him realize the depth of his attachment to Emme. And what he was willing to risk to be with her. "No. There was no need to rush. I had been waiting for our wedding night. If my parents had ever approved our engagement for us to wed." He didn't admit that Jessie had tried.

"Well, I'm sure part of you always knew that your parents were never going to consent to a match between you and Jessie. You better come clean Rick; you don't seem to be able to keep your head straight around this . . . Emme. This could end badly all around."

 _Main Keep_

After separating from their Alexandria visitors, the walk to the main keep was strained with all the words not said. Michonne attempted small chatter but when no one engaged, she too fell silent. She supposed Abe wanted to lecture her but refrained as her ladies were present. Abe escorted them to the front of the keep and told Michonne he had an appointment to attend. He warned her not to leave the keep before he returned. He waited until they were all inside before he headed to meet Carol to apprise her of the latest.

Sir Benito met them as soon as they entered the keep, searching for his daughter.

"Queen Amara wishes an audience with the two of us," he informed Rosita. Rosita looked at Michonne and shrugged, unsure of what the queen would want with her and her father.

"Maybe it's about your mom," Michonne said quietly as Rosita passed, reaching out to squeeze her hand.

Rosita smiled and nodded, clasping back at Michonne's hand. She remained quiet as she and her father made their way to the throne room. He didn't initiate conversation and nor did she expect him to. Ever since her mother's disappearance he had changed, becoming more stern and hard-hearted as he fell further and further in sorrow. Rosita had tried unsuccessfully to bridge the divide between them but it only grew wider with their shared grief over her mother's disappearance.

Ignoring Maggie's glare, Michonne told her and Andrea she wanted time alone and she walked down to the lower solar. She wanted to ponder on her time with Rick in the maze and the conundrum she was in. She felt no desire to become familiar with or marry the prince. Her heart now belonged to another; to the messenger from Alexandria. This was not going to end well. She would have to defy her parents or end up heartbroken and neither option was encouraging. Even if the messenger held a favored position at Rising Moon; even if he was knighted, that would not change her parents' decision on who would be her husband. Lost in her thoughts, she was distracted as she walked the corridor and didn't realize she was being followed until he was upon her.

"My dear princess Michonne," Sir Philip greeted her.

Michonne froze and peered down both ends of the passageway, her heart sinking when she realized they were completely alone. The lower solar was indeed just that, on a lower level, directly beneath the main solarium; used only by the monarchy and a few select others. It wasn't frequented by those who did not have express permission to do so. Michonne reasoned that Philip must use the room with approval from her father. Without Abe or her sword, she was vulnerable. She didn't show her alarm at this realization, instead recalling the steps of various defense maneuvers that Abe had taught her.

"Sir Philip," she responded.

Philip bowed but somehow managed to maintain an air of mockery in the act. Michonne thought again of how much she did not like this man. When he straightened, he took a step closer and she backed up until she was against the wall. He followed until there were mere inches between them.

"It is always so nice to see you; I savor any opportunity to know you better but I rarely get the occasion."

"It is busy work being a princess," she offered. Her avoidance of him was intentional. "Perchance we can have tea one afternoon, with my parents."

"Perchance," he murmured. His uncovered eye traveled down to her lips and lower, pausing at her bosom before meeting her eyes again. Her skin crawled.

He leaned closer. "I find you intriguing," he whispered near her ear, his breath fusty and unwelcome on her neck, where just moments ago, the attentions of another man in such a way had left her craving more. Michonne kept her head to the side and prepared to hike up her knee if he dared to actually touch her.

"If you could," she ground out, motioning with her hands for him to give her space.

Philip obliged and stepped back.

"I have petitioned your father to court you," he told her.

"I am already betrothed to be married."

"But there have yet to be vows exchanged. Where is your new beau? I would like to meet him; the younger prince and second son from Alexandria. I would have thought a princess who is sole heir to such a jewel of a kingdom as Atlantica would be matched with a firstborn."

"A first born prince is heir to his kingdom and his wife would rule by his side, there. My betrothed will rule here in Atlantica, with me."

"We will see. Mayhap I will court the willing Lady Andrea instead."

"If she will have you."

"She will have me," he said smugly. They both knew his words were true.

He leaned in again and Michonne tensed, prepared for more suggestive and unwelcome comments but Philip spoke too rapidly for her to understand what he was saying, the words disappearing as soon as she heard them. Philip straightened and watched her expectantly.

Michonne frowned and felt there was something he wanted her to do. Or not do. She glanced to her right, where the doors to the lower solar remained closed. She tried to remember if the doors had been open before but realized she didn't care. She didn't want to visit the room after all. In fact, she never wanted to go inside the room again. She looked back to Philip, puzzled at the bizarre grin on his face; a smile that really wasn't one at all. She dismissed her thoughts and started to walk to the solar but hesitated when a wave of nausea flowed over her.

"As you were saying, Princess?"

"I am late to rejoin my ladies," she said and returned the way she had come. With each step away, she felt less and less ill. She was back on the main level when she bumped into Maggie.

"I've been looking all over for you," Maggie puffed, out of breath. "I was on my way to find Abe."

"I was going to the lower solar. I told you that just minutes ago."

"Michonne, it's been at least a half hour since I saw you last."

"Are you sure? I was just here with you, Andrea and Rosita. Did you not recall that I was going below stairs?"

Maggie frowned over Michonne's lost time. "It must have slipped my mind."

"Isn't that peculiar?"

Maggie shrugged. They walked toward Michonne's residence.

"When's the last time we've been to the lower solar?" Michonne asked Maggie.

Maggie considered. "I can't recall."

"Now that is peculiar. We used to meet there quite frequently. I was on my way there but then he showed and suddenly I didn't want to anymore."

"Who?"

"Sir Philip."

"Do you want to go down there and look around?"

"No," Michonne decided. "He's down there now, guarding the room. The less I see of him, the better. I'll talk with my parents about it. Why were you looking for me?"

"It's about Rosita. She received news about her mom."

Michonne smiled widely and rushed off to Rosita's chambers, followed closely by Maggie. When she arrived, she stood in the doorway, taking in the scene. She watched in shock as Rosita placed various garments on her bed and her maid packed them into a large satchel. Andrea was sitting in a wingback chair and stood when Michonne entered, her eyes sad.

"What are you doing?" Michonne asked unnecessarily.

"The meeting with the queen; you were right, it was about my mother. Daryl found a trail; we know where she is. Or where she was last. We kept looking west because my mom was traveling to Lonestar Kingdom to visit relatives, but he found her north. She's at The Sanctuary Kingdom. My father and I are going there."

"Right now?"

"On the morrow, at dawn. Oh, Michonne, Andrea, Maggie. I can't tell you how hopeful this makes me. This is so much more than I've had in so long."

Michonne was elated for her. "Wait a moment," she said before rushing off to her chamber. Once there, she opened a hidden panel that held bank notes and jewels. Reaching underneath a heart-shaped amethyst, she grabbed a handful of loose gemstones and returned to Rosita.

"Here, take these. Just in case." She gave the stones to Rosita.

"Michonne, I won't need these. I'll be with my father."

"Then you probably won't need them. But just in case. My mother says a lady should always have her own resources, no matter what her situation."

"Thank you," Rosita said gratefully. She placed gems in a small velvet pouch.

"Is there any other way I can help?"

"Maybe I can also take Abe?" Rosita proposed, half-joking.

"You know that's not possible."

"Do you think he'll wait for me?

Michonne opened her mouth to respond but didn't know how to tell her cousin she wasn't sure Abe returned her affections. "I don't know."

Rosita nodded and handed the pouch to her maid to be put away for safekeeping.

Michonne was elated too. "I wish I could go with you."

Rosita's eyes twinkled. "You have a wedding to prepare for. Although I wonder who the groom will be."

"I've been wondering the same," Andrea said.

"You make too much of a simple kiss," Michonne defended.

"What was going on in the maze, it was much more than some kiss," Maggie stated. "I mean, there are kisses and then there was you and that messenger at that fountain."

Michonne sighed. "I don't want to talk about it now. We're here for Rosita."

Rosita and Andrea looked at each other and shared a smile. Rosita dismissed her maid.

"Maybe we should confess," Maggie said. "I don't know if I can be you any longer."

"Why not?"

"The prince. He is charming, very persuasive." Maggie's eyes wandered about the room.

"Is that so?"

"And, I think . . .," Maggie cleared her throat and looked back to Michonne. "I think he is falling in love with me."

"And you with him?" Michonne kept the hope out of her voice. Surely her mother could only be so enraged if the prince fell in love with Maggie instead. Maggie was like her sister.

"You have to set this right, Michonne. The prince's heart is good and earnest."

"You promised me two days. Please give me that." Michonne pushed away the panic rising at the thought of not spending any additional time with Rick.

Maggie set her jaw. "Fine. I'll keep my word. But it's not kind to trifle with matters of the heart."

* * *

After parting from her ladies, Michonne went to find her mother.

"She's leaving," she announced, walking into her parents' residence. Her mother was in her boudoir, reading at the window seat.

Amara closed her book. "My daughter. Good eve."

"Hello Momma." Michonne dipped quickly. "She's leaving. What are we going to do about it?" She joined her mother at the seat and slipped under the quilt with her.

"It's as I expected. She needs to find Rosario. We don't have cause to storm into The Sanctuary when there is no evidence Rosario is there against her will."

"Lord Benito is going too."

"Yes."

"Who will be in control of the guard while he is away?"

Amara sighed. "They will report to Benito's second, Lord Theodore, for now. It has been submitted that Philip step in while Benito is away."

Michonne frowned. "Is he even qualified?"

"Your father believes that he is. You will learn, Michonne, that you must pick and choose the struggles with your husband. You will see. Philip has yet to be appointed as a member of the great council and until then, overseeing the guard would be theoretical only. The fight worth fighting is keeping him off the council."

Michonne nodded, trusting that her mother was aware of all that was happening.

"Why is Sir Philip still even here? There is something off about him."

Amara hummed in agreement. "We are in an unfortunate situation where he has become a confidant of your father's."

"Can't you just have him removed?"

"It is not that simple, Michonne. He is a special guest of your father's. Unless I have tangible evidence that he has acted untoward or in a treasonous manner, I can't just cast him out. Has something transpired with him that makes you feel this way?"

Michonne tilted her head to the side as she thought. She remembered seeing Philip on her way to the lower solar but not the specifics of the encounter that upset her. Michonne shook her head.

Amara nodded. "How fare things with the prince?"

Michonne picked at the wool blanket. "He is nice enough." She longed to tell her mother about _him_ , the one that had captured her heart. "He seems a little taken with Maggie."

Amara stared hard at her daughter. "That won't do Michonne. The prince is for you. I won't accept anything else."

Michonne sighed and rested her head on the window.

King Andreas entered the room and smiled at his wife and daughter.

"My lovely ladies," he said. Michonne got up to greet her father with a kiss on the cheek. He seemed to be his usual self when lately he was often lethargic and forgetful. She watched as her parents hugged each other.

"If we didn't already have plans, I swear I'd come in here anyway to escape him," Andreas complained.

"Escape who?" Amara asked, already knowing the answer.

"The under-steward. Horvath. Every time I turn around, he is there."

Amara nodded sympathetically. She turned to her daughter. "Michonne, your father and I will not be attending dinner. I have decided that you will host the prince and his guests. I've already had Carol pen an invitation on your behalf to be sent over."

"Yes ma'am," Michonne said dutifully. "We can use the private dining room. In the great hall, we'll be the center of attention in a most distracting way."

"I agree. The dining room will be perfect. Why are they residing at Mystic Wonder? There are rooms here."

"Momma, you said I could get to know him on my terms, without interference. I decided we could each have our own space and privacy if they were at the guest house. At least until his parents arrive."

"I remember what I said, Michonne." Amara narrowed her eyes. "I don't want any mischief."

"No ma'am."

There was a lull in the conversation and Amara and Andreas waited for Michonne to take her leave.

"Run along Michonne," Andreas said when she lingered.

"Now?" she asked, looking between her parents as they watched her. Understanding struck as to why they were hurrying her out of the room. "Oh. Ew."

* * *

 _Mystic Wonder_

Rick paced around his chamber, mulling over his situation, thinking of her. _Emme_. He admitted to himself that he was in love with her, deep and everlasting and yet he was betrothed to her princess. He would do anything to be with her, but short of an elopement, he saw no way it would be possible. It could end with them both being disowned. Emme loved her family; he didn't want to cut her off from her family. And he couldn't imagine the rest of his life not talking and spending time with his family. He didn't want to choose.

There was a knock and he opened the door to find Sasha on the other side, holding up a square of vellum.

"We've been invited to dine privately with the princess and her ladies this evening," she said.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"No, Rick, it's not a good idea, but we're not in a position to decline."

"What if you took ill? Have some lady sickness or another. Like my mom."

Sasha threw him an exasperated look. "Your mother has a very particular malady and all of you would have my head if I were suffering from that condition."

Rick looked confused, distracted from their current dilemma by her comment.

"What do you mean? What's happening with my mother?"

"Nothing unfamiliar that she won't withstand. I'm sure Eloise will share when you see her next. In the meantime, we need to prepare for dinner."

Rick took the invitation and skimmed it. The scent on the card wafted to him and reminded him immediately of Emme. He remembered his time with her in the maze.

"I'll meet you downstairs in a quarter hour," Rick told Sasha before calling for his valet.

A half hour later, Rick, Sasha and Glen were walking to the main keep.

Rick remembered the plans he had made with Emme. "We are riding with the princess and her ladies in the morning. You'll have to seat Nebraska," he said to Glenn.

"Let's take a walk instead," Glenn offered.

"We walked today, in the maze. Emme and I decided that a ride would be in order. I've already told her that Nebraska is one of the prince's steeds, so you'll have to ride him."

"One of them, meaning the prince has others. You can ride him and I'll ride Onyx."

"I think you should be on the bigger horse. It's something a prince would do."

"If you are there Nebraska won't cooperate," Glenn said. "You know that he prefers you."

They arrived at the keep and were welcomed by a porter who escorted them to a private dining room.

Rick entered first, noticing the princess, Andrea and Rosita within, chatting around the fireplace. He greeted the ladies and stood near the door, waiting for Emme to arrive.

"Rick, we must talk." Glenn said, appearing next to him.

"Now?" Rick asked. He didn't want to leave. "We're about to sit for dinner."

"Yes, now," Glen insisted.

Rick stepped out into the passageway and got the attention of a passing servant.

"Is there a place where we can converse privately?" Rick asked him.

Horvath gave a nod. "Yes, your highness," he said, addressing Glenn. "Please follow me."

* * *

Michonne hurried through the corridors toward the dining room. She was late; having changed her mind three times before finally deciding on a gown. Indecision was an unusual trait for her and she was sure her maids had been baffled as they dressed and redressed her. She had chosen a lavender velvet dress with bell sleeves and a lace front bodice; the underdress a shimmery gray. It was a first for her, to consider what a man would think of how she looked. A bashful smile crossed her face as she thought about Rick and hoped he thought her good-looking tonight.

Her smile faded when she turned the corner and spotted Sir Philip at the other end. She halted outside the doors to the library. After weeks of avoidance, she was now seeing him too much for her liking. Philip was standing over a young servant, holding out his foot while his shoe was polished. She would have to pass by him to get to the dining room but she didn't want to interact with him. As if sensing her presence, he began to turn his head her way and she quickly slipped inside the library, hoping he hadn't seen her.

Two stories high with large windows, the library was filled with the aroma of leather, parchment and ink. Escritoires, upholstered benches and oversized reclining chairs were spread throughout, inviting visitors to stay a spell. It was unoccupied; dust motes welcoming Michonne as she rushed to hide behind one of the stacks. Several moments later, the door opened again and she held still, dismayed that Philip had followed her. When the footsteps didn't move beyond the entrance, she peeked between the shelves toward the front but couldn't see anything.

"So, let's talk."

She immediately recognized his voice. _Rick._

"We have to end this."

Rick was with the prince. Michonne wondered what they were discussing and what they had to end. She quietly moved toward the doors to try to see them while she eavesdropped.

"You promised me two days. It's only been one."

"The princess . . . she is dazzling. She looks at me as if she truly sees into the heart of me. Her beauty leaves me speechless. I don't know how I have been able to converse with her when I feel I can barely form sentences. I like her; I have become so fond of her I fear too much time in her presence will make me weak."

"Glenn, you are a man with a sturdy character. Surely you can resist."

"I assure you. She is spectacular. We shared a kiss. In the maze."

Michonne's eyes widened and her mouth fell open. Maggie had neglected to share that bit of information.

She didn't hear what Rick said next. She eased closer.

"I cannot dishonor our king by falling in love with your intended."

Michonne was confused. Why would Maggie, who they believed to be the princess, be the one Rick was to marry?

"I will speak to him. We will find a way."

"That is not going to be possible. You have to reveal yourself. You have to tell them you are the prince."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hey lovelies! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and where the story is going. Forgive any typos, if I read through this chapter one more time, my eyeballs will fall out. I appreciate all the reads, reviews and follows; all of them. I'm tickled that so many of you are enjoying this story. So, this update took longer than I planned, but not as long as between the first two chapters, so I'm claiming it's a positive trend. I'm a slow writer and with editing, real life responsibilities and a propensity toward procrastination and distraction, I'm doing the best I can. Let's not talk about the one-shots in between ;)


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